


The Land of Eternal Winter

by WintermoonQueen



Category: Frozen (2013)
Genre: AU, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Historical, F/M, Frohana, Frozen!Vikings, Viking AU, snow sisters
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-02-25
Updated: 2017-09-01
Packaged: 2018-03-15 01:30:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 30,032
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3433037
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WintermoonQueen/pseuds/WintermoonQueen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In a world of sacrifice, shields, and gods, Elsa never felt that she belonged. Having thought to be a curse left by Odin, she stays hidden. As Anna struggles to connect with her sister, both women are dragged into a war they aren’t ready for. How will they survive when treason threatens to tear them apart?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Touch of Frost

**Author's Note:**

> Because of the nature of the historical vikings, there will be blood, cussing, and minor character death in this story.

**PROLOGUE**

**"Touch of Frost"**

The ground gave a rhythmic rumble beneath the hooves of two galloping stallions. They released heavy pants as they raced through the rocky slopes of the mountain. The full moon seemed to invite them. Its gleam faded under the ominous passing of a cloud for a moment before it was able to break through and brighten a pathway for the two passengers.

The man tightened his hold on the reigns until his knuckles were white. The black-tipped fur that covered the collar of his billowing brown cloak bristled against his tightened jaw. His eyes, wide with worry and bagged with a lack of sleep, shot to the woman who rode beside him whose arms cradled a small, sleeping bundle wrapped in layers of fabric and fur. Tuffs of her white-blonde hair peaked out from underneath, ruffling against the cold wind.

As if feeling his gaze upon her, his wife lifted her eyes from her daughter and fixated him with a haunted look. A look that caused a shiver of trepidation to race down his spine. She then looked away from him, back down at their daughter, and pulled the tiny bundle closer to her chest when the wind kicked up to a howl.

He clenched his teeth and turned his eyes back to the moonlit path. The trees were bare, bowing to the spontaneous gusts as they passed, curling over the trio like claws. Another cloud cast its shadow over the moon when his horse halted and reared. The stallion kicked his front legs in the air and let out a blood-curdling neigh.

Before he could register what was happening, his grasp slipped from the reigns. He slid backwards off the horse and landed on his arm, sucking in a pained gasp when he felt the rubble of the cold, hard ground dig into his sides.

His wife gasped and called out to him, he could detect a small tremor in her voice, “Agdar!”

The thunderous rhythm of hooves stopped. There was a shuffling of fabric. Regaining his composure, he leaned up on his elbow and felt for the axe on his left side. He saw his wife dismount her horse and rush over to him with their daughter still tucked away in her arms. The baby was still sound asleep, and Agdar gave a silent prayer to the gods that she would be okay; he prayed that she felt as peaceful as she looked.

A low groan shook the ground, startling the horses to engage in a dangerous prance around a large, moss-coated boulder. Heart pounding, Agdar pushed himself to his feet and reached out with an arm to wrap around his wife’s waist, pulling her close. His right hand curled around the handle of his axe in a vice grip.

“Idun,” he murmured, pressing his lips close to her ear, “stay by me.”

She looked up at him, her eyes wide and glassy. The baby stirred in her arms, a sheer layer of frost began to coat the rim of the fur that kept her face hidden from the darkness of the looming forest. Idun released a shuddering breath and clamped her free hand around his arm.

“Agdar…what if this is not the gods’ doing?”

“ _No_ ,” he growled and turned his gaze away, refusing to look at her. “My daughter is not a curse.”

He felt Idun shift by his side, and her grasp on him tightened. He reached out with his free hand and covered her fingers with his own. He then studied her face, watching the occasional crease of her eyebrows, the tremble of her bottom lip, and the quake of her shoulders. He wrapped an arm around her and guided her to his chest. His lips brushed the top of her head before he placed a chaste kiss on her crown.

“She isn’t a curse. She will never be a curse, Odin has blessed her with a special gift that no other man can hope to obtain.”

Idun looked up to him and forced a seldom, upward twitch of her lips, an expression he had longed to see on his wife for months.

A high pitched neigh tore him from his admiration. With wide eyes, his head shot upward and he squinted into the distance. Boulders rolled down the mountain at an alarming rate, cutting around the horses and leaping over the sharp, protruding rocks that shaped the North Mountain with peculiar formations. The mossy spheres halted before the Jarl and circled the young family.

Agdar’s heart stopped. His chest felt heavy as he struggled to breathe as though Thor had dropped his hammer on him. He took a step forward, forcing Idun behind him to shield her and the baby.

"I foresaw your arrival, Jarl Agdar.”

Agdar swallowed. His eyes darted to his right, trying to pinpoint where the voice had echoed from. The boulders rolled to the side, creating a pathway down the middle and a hunched figure worked his way through.

His ash-gray skin gleamed under the moonlight, revealing the rough edges and smooth surfaces of his figure. Wrinkles curved around the edges of his gentle eyes, but they twinkled with wisdom as he regarded the couple. Smooth blades of grass and moss that covered his aged figure brushed against the cold breeze of the bare, winter night. And as he passed through, each boulder began to uncurl like flowers blooming in spring.

_Trolls_ , Agdar realized.

As if noticing the wary look in the Jarl’s eyes, the troll halted a few feet from the couple and held out a crystal. It flickered a bright green, a color similar to the moss that clung to his skin.

“I mean no harm,” he assured, nestling the crystal in his palm. “A troll does not offer his treasures unless he finds an alliance trustworthy. I know of your troubles, Jarl Agdar. Your daughter…” The troll trailed off with a frown when he stepped closer.

Idun gave a start, drawing the infant away from him.

The troll gazed up at her with a dismal glint in his eyes, but Agdar held his wife by the arm and gave a silent urge to release her hold on the baby.

Idun glanced at him, but relented and crouched down to the troll’s level.

“What is the young one’s name?” he asked, leaning over the bundle in her arms to gaze at the sleeping infant.

“Elsa,” she whispered, her soft voice burdened with the weariness of a mother.

He reached out in a tentative manner, so as not to wake the slumbering newborn. His gray, cold fingers gently brushed a blonde tuff of hair from her forehead. He gave a low hum and closed his eyes for a fraction of a second.

“I am afraid I cannot tell you if the gods have willed such a power to manifest in your daughter. It is a part of her that I cannot remove.”

“Then what can we do?” Agdar asked.

The troll retracted his hand and turned his gaze to the Jarl.

“There are challenges that come with great power, and she must learn the extent of her capabilities. But you must be careful, such a responsibility may breed fear.”

Urging Agdar to extend his hand, the troll lifted the green crystal by a string and placed it within his open palm.

“Use this wisely,” he said, curling the Jarl’s fingers around the warm crystal. Its glow ceased beneath his skin and began to cool. “And _only_ if you feel that her control has grown scarce.”

Agdar clenched his fingers tightly around the translucent gem and glanced at his daughter, still resting in her mother’s arms. His hard expression softened and he voiced his gratitude, “Thank you, how may I repay you for your kindness?”

The troll took a few steps back. His wrinkled eyes darted to the Jarl, his wife, then came to rest on Elsa.

“There is nothing that I wish to be repaid by, Jarl Agdar. But,” he paused and gave a brief close of his eyes before tilting his chin up to look at the full moon; its light marvelous in the night sky as it cast its whimsical rays among the rough bark of the bare trees and the uneven surfaces of the mountain’s rubble. “Every sixth full moon, she must travel to meet with me in the North Mountain. It is essential that her magic is regulated at an even pace as she grows. The full moon is when all magic is at its strongest and if not contained, it could become dangerous.”

Agdar regarded Elsa as Idun straightened herself. He took her tiny, delicate cool hand in his as he began to tie the crystal to her blanket. Its alluring green glow reflected the moonlight and began to transform its color. It flickered as if it were a candle threatened to be snuffed out by a cold wind.

Elsa stirred and peeked through the lids of her eyes. Her tiny hand uncurled from his finger and tentatively reached out to touch the crystal. The moment the tips of her fingers grazed its smooth surface, the natural green pigment began to fade. A small, azure spot spread from underneath her fingers and began to bleed out to the clear-cut edges of the lucid rock.

A bright flash forced Agdar to look away with his arm raised to shield his eyes. When all was silent, a small awe-filled gasp echoed in the air. He turned to glimpse at Elsa. Reflected in her bright, cerulean eyes, was a sapphire crystal now encased in ice.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please let me know what you think! Though I would like to note that while I have done a lot of research on Norse mythology and vikings and their culture, I will be bending the historical facts a little. Like how Elsa is a viking who has powers, and other magical elements that will appear through this story. If anything confuses you, please let me know so I can clarify! The viking culture can be a little confusing at times and I will try my best to represent their culture with as much clarity as I can.
> 
> Please leave a review and see you next chapter!


	2. Shackled to Fate

**Chapter 1**

**Shackled to Fate**

She peeked over the crib at the wailing infant. Her blue eyes widened and glittered with curiosity. The baby's arms flailed and her legs kicked. Her face contorted and her mouth quivered, her cheeks wet with a stream of tears. She gave another cry when a blinding, blue flash of lightning struck the sky.

Little four year-old Elsa furrowed her eyebrows and formed a frown of her own.

"Don't cry Anna. Here, look!"

She dangled her hand above her baby sister and with a flick of her fingers, a tiny snowflake flurried down and fell upon Anna's little button nose. Her wide eyes followed as it drifted downward, coaxing her to release a shrill giggle of delight. She raised her hands and flexed them, blabbering gibberish only she could understand.

Elsa released another flurry of snowflakes, feeling a sense of giddiness race through her body. Hovering her hands above the crib, one large, icy snowflake manifested between her fingers.

"See? Thunderstorms aren't so scary!"

Anna clapped her hands together and released a string of laughter.

Elsa leaned over more so her arms rested upon the ledge and her chin could perch itself on the wooden banister.

She flicked her fingers again, but before she could release another bout of snowflakes, a warm hand covered her own and guided her hands from the crib.

"Elsa," came a deep voice and she resisted the urge to flinch as a sense of shame washed over her. "What are you doing?"

Redirecting her head to stare down at the floor, she backed away from the crib. Her hand escaped the warmth of her father's palm when she withdrew them to cradle to her chest.

"I-I was just..." her voice wavered and her eyes turned back to her little sister. "I thought Anna would want some company."

Her father sighed. He crouched down to her level and drew her hands back into his own. Elsa averted her eyes.

"Elsa, look at me."

She squeezed her eyes shut and pressed her lips thin until they turned white from pressure. His fingers brushed just beneath her chin, coaxing her to lift her head. She knew what was coming. She could hear the words that haven't passed his lips yet echo in the back of her mind.

She cracked the lids of her eyes open to find her father giving her a stern look.

"You have to conceal it. No one, not even your sister can know."

"I know Papa, but-"

"Elsa, it's too dangerous. What if something happened? What if your powers struck her?"

"But they didn't!"

"They could have."

Her vision blurred for a moment before she felt tears trail down her cheeks. She would never intend to hurt her little sister.

He enveloped her in a tight hug, his hand cradled the back of her head. She brought her hands to the fabric of his shirt and rested her head against his chest. She sniffled until her cheeks were dry.

"Don't worry Papa, I'll conceal it. I promise."

Deep in her heart, she was just hoping that wouldn't include Anna.

She was wrong.

* * *

Elsa  _used_  to be fun. She used to  _play_  more often, she used to  _smile_  more.

* * *

"Psst."

Anna peeked up over the bed, her fingers curling into the furs of the blankets, her eyes wide.

"Pssssst, Elsa."

Her sister groaned and turned in her sleep, snuggling into the soft blankets. Anna gave a pout, pushed herself up onto the bed, and crawled onto Elsa. She leaned forward, brushing her lips against her sister's ear, and blew a raspberry.

Elsa started with a gasp, her arms flailing as she shot up into a sitting position, causing Anna to fall back into the blankets in a fit of giggles. She kicked her legs and clutched her sides as if Elsa had just initiated a tickle fight.

Her older sister, on the other hand, was not having it. With the corners of her lips tipped downward, she planted her hands into the blankets and jerked them out from underneath Anna. A low warning sound, much like a growl, rumbled in Elsa's throat.

" _Anna_. Go to  _sleep_!"

Anna rolled onto her stomach and propped herself up by her hands to sit on her knees. Her eyes were wide, shimmering with excitement.

"But Elsa, it's  _snowing_!"

"An—wait, it is?"

Curious, Elsa's eyes shot to the window.

 _Got her_.

Anna reached forward, entwined their fingers and jumped off the bed with an attempt to pull Elsa with her. She grunted when Elsa (at first) resisted, before she felt the force of her pull give when her sister climbed off the bed and made to follow. Anna couldn't hold in a light giggle when she noticed a twitch of a smile begin to bloom along Elsa's face.

"Come  _on_ , let's build a snowman!"

With her fingers wrapped tight around her sister's hand, Anna ran outside and dove straight into the snow, headfirst. Elsa's muffled voice rang through the large, white mound as Anna began to dig her way out.

"Careful, Anna!"

Tossing her arms upward, the snow sprung from her open hands and sprinkled downward, clinging to Anna's hair and coating it white. She locked eyes with Elsa and waved her arms. The large, eager smile never left her lips.

"Elsa, come on  _come on_!"

When she finally succumbed to her little sister's demands, Elsa dove in after her.

It wasn't until the sun began to rise that they started to build their snowman.

Elsa named him Olaf.

* * *

With her back pressed against the wall, Anna peeked around the corner, careful not to utter a sound as her sister continued to work. Her hold on her little wooden sword tightened at her side and she found that she couldn't contain herself as a sly smile spread along her cheeks. Underneath her dark green, ankle-length dress, her legs stiffened and her toes curled and uncurled beneath the leather of her shoes.

An oil lamp flickered above her head when she retreated with her eyes and closed them.

Little seven-year-old Anna took in a deep breath.

Okay, count to ten.

_One, two, three...ten!_

Raising her sword, she charged in with a battle cry. Her stubby legs leaped over a bench, knocking over the sheep-fur that laid as a cushion along the clean-cut wood, and landed with a loud thud as her feet hit the hard ground. She flailed her arms and swung her sword in a long downward arc, forcing the spindle out of her older sister's hands and causing the thread to unwind as it rolled across the floor.

Elsa gasped, "Anna!"

When Elsa gathered her blue skirts, Anna jumped in front of her with the point of her sword aimed at her sister.

"Elsa come on, fight me! Pretend you want my land!"

Elsa pursed her lips. Her eyes darted from the sword in Anna's hands to the mess of a spindle on the ground. A long silence fell between them and Anna's arm started to feel heavy as she continued to leave it suspended.

Her sister refused to look at her as one of her hands moved to the crystal hanging from her neck. Curling her fingers around it, she took a step back.

Anna lowered her sword.

"Elsa come on, this will be more fun than weaving and sewing stuff! I promise, pretty please? I'll give you half of my dessert later..."

She watched as Elsa's eyes trailed down to the sword in Anna's hand and bit her bottom lip. She glanced back at the fallen spindle.

"Anna... now is not the time..."

"Why not? You can't just sit and do the same thing all day!"

"Because I can't—"

"Why can't you?"

"Anna…" Elsa trailed off and sighed, leaning down to pick up the spindle and began to re-wrap the loose threads. "I just can't play right now."

Anna pursed her lips, comprehending but not wanting to listen to her sister's words. She held her breath, feeling her chest fill with unbridled fury.

"You  _never_  want to play with me," she spat, gripping her wooden sword tighter, she turned and stormed out.

* * *

Elsa had never thought her powers to be dangerous. She had been told, throughout her lifetime, that they could be and they must remain hidden. She never understood why.

Until now.

A young boy, no older than herself, lay at her feet, motionless. His light hair, ruffled by the strong breeze, was the only part of him that moved.

Elsa held her breath, her heart pounding in her chest and blood roared in her ears. The only other sound was her own voice, crying in the back of her mind, that this was all her fault.

All she could do was be thankful that Anna was nowhere to be seen when it happened. She could hardly recall what they had been doing. He'd asked her to play a game. But it wasn't a game, at least not to her.

He'd been kind, playful even. He'd told her stories, some of his own and some he spoke of Thor, even Loki and the frost-giants. But nothing could have prepared her for what came.

A dagger, sharper than a claw and thinner than a horn, nicked her cheek. She had stumbled back, her feet caught on a loose rock, and fell. She couldn't breathe, there had been no time to move away from her assailant. He grabbed her by the wrist and sneered, taunting her to get up and fight. He came at her with another swing of his arm, blade in hand, descending.

Frost spread from beneath her, slithering through the grass. She opened her mouth to scream, but no sound would come—or was she deaf to her own voice?

Elsa thrust her hand forward, her last attempt of defense, and the blade shattered, splintering to the ground in tiny shards of ice, melting into the soil. The boy collapsed, his fingers frozen to the handle of the blade and a streak of white hair mingled with his blond locks.

Now, as she stood with her knees locked, her feet rooted to the ground, all she wanted to do was scream until her throat was raw and wish for death to claim her instead.

* * *

Anna pouted and crossed her arms with her back pressed against the wooden door. She didn't even feel herself slide down its surface or when her behind plopped upon the ground.

Her eyebrows creased downward as she glared at the opposite wall.

"Stupid, stupid,  _stupid_ ," she grumbled.

"Anna? What's wrong, dear?"

Anna jumped her to feet when her mother peeked around the corner.

"Mama! Elsa won't play with me!"

She watched as her mother's eyes grew somber, as if a dark cloud hung over her head when she turned her gaze to the closed door.

"Why don't you go play with your friends?"

"But I want to play with Elsa!"

Her mother seemed to deflate at her protest, and for a moment, Anna thought she noticed bags under her eyes.

"Anna, honey..." Idun trailed off, placing her hands on Anna's shoulders. She crouched down to her level. "I think Elsa just wants some time alone."

Anna flared her nostrils and stomped her foot, ripping herself from her mother's gentle hold.

"Elsa always wants time alone! She  _never_  wants to play with me!"

She felt her shoulders shake and her chest fill with hot air as she turned back to the door with her fists clenched at her sides. "Fine, I'll go build Olaf all by myself and when I'm done I'm going to tell him that you don't want to play with us!"

Her foot surged forward, and she kicked it as hard as she could. A loud crack resounded through the hallway and Anna let out an angry groan. She hopped on one food and cradled her toes through her leather slippers. Tears pricked at her eyes.

She looked back at the cursed door, and wanted nothing more than to run an axe through it, demanding answers.

Was she not good enough?

"What did I ever do to you?! Don't you like me anymore?! Why  _not_?!"

"Anna!" Her mother called. She grabbed her daughter's shoulders and tried to pull her from the door.

Anna saw red. Her teeth grit as she bared them with a curl of her lips. She tried to pull away from Idun, feeling her mother's fingers slide down to her elbows, restraining her.

"Why?!" she screamed. A hot stream of tears broke into a scorching waterfall down her cheeks. "Why do you hate me?!"

"Anna!"

She spun around and collapsed into her mother's arms, pressing her wet face into her stomach, soaking the fabric with her tears.

Anna was taken away from Elsa's door.

* * *

The next morning there was a light tap on Anna's door.

Not having gotten a wink of sleep, she stumbled from the thick furs of her bed and cracked it open to see her sister standing in the hallway with her arms behind her back. Anna glared at her. She thought about slamming the door in her face for a moment; okay, maybe twice.

 _See how she likes it_ , Anna thought bitterly.

"What do you want?" she grumbled.

Elsa shifted on her feet, glancing off to the side as if the frame of the door were more interesting than her sister. She then stretched out her hands. In between the flats of her palms was an intricate carving of a leaping fox—her favorite animal—with a threaded string knotted through a tiny hole, just large enough for a pin, at the top.

Anna's eyes bugged out of her head.

"I... Is that for me?" she asked, already reaching for it. If there was anything she loved more than chocolate, it was gifts.

Elsa placed it in her hands before retreating. She still wouldn't meet Anna's eyes. "I made it," she said, then added as an afterthought, "for you."

"Woah! It's so pretty!"

Anna could barely contain the excitement. A tingle raced from her head to her toes. Her hands shook when she gathered the entwined string, a collaboration of dark and light shades of green—her favorite color—and looped it over her head to rest the wooden pendant around her neck. She was so entranced with the necklace that if Elsa hadn't spoken, she would have forgotten her sister was still there.

"...I don't hate you."

Anna's head shot up. A wide smile bloomed along her face and she charged forward, crashing into her older sister, and wrapped her arms around her. She felt the familiar prick in her eyes and squeezed them shut with a sniffle.

"I'm sorry that I yelled at you..."

For the first time in two years, Elsa returned the embrace.

* * *

Every year, a few days around her birthday, Elsa would take a trip to the mountains with their father. They always left Anna behind with her mother, and today was no different.

"Papa I want to go with you and Elsa! I'm old enough now aren't I?" she whined, craning her neck upward to stare at her father with wide eyes. She added a trembling lip, just to make him feel bad—or at least she hoped.

He sighed and shook his head. Elsa turned her back to them, pretending she wasn't listening.

"Anna, you have to stay here. I promise we will be back before you know it. This is a dangerous journey."

A bubble of rage filled in her chest, she felt it begin to burst with each word that fell out of her mouth.

"But I'm thirteen now! Elsa has been going to the North Mountain since she was  _six_!"

Agdar reached down to steady her by the shoulders.

"This is something Elsa and I must do. It's the gods' will. You will understand with time, Anna that Odin has different paths for each of us."

She deflated at his words and a moment of silence passed between them. Elsa was the one to break it. Her voice so soft that Anna strained to hear her.

"Papa, the sun is beginning to set. We should leave now before the moon rises."

Agdar released his hold on Anna and turned to Elsa. His eyes glanced out the open door. The North Mountain stood proud underneath the setting sun.

"Let's go then, Elsa." He turned back to Anna and brushed a few strands of her bright hair from her face. "Behave yourself, don't give your mother a hard time okay?"

Anna avoided his expectant gaze and uttered a 'yes, Papa' under her breath.

When they took their leave, Anna swore she thought she saw Elsa's necklace glowing.

* * *

"Anna, I would like you to meet Fritjof. He has offered to teach you how to fight."

The man stepped forward. He was tall enough to tower over her; the top of her head barely touched his chin. Despite this slight intimidation (she would  _never_  admit that he was a little scary-looking), a genuine smile was plastered on his face. He was lean, but built like a warrior, Anna had seen men who were more buff sail off into battle.

His light brown hair was pulled back into a small pony tail and the light stubble of a beard implied that he was still young. A freshly-made warrior. She wondered how many battles he had fought in, wondered how many battle scars he carried—if he had any. If she asked, would he show her?

A sword hung at his hip, long and thin. She was used to seeing axes in the sparring sessions she had watched from afar. Perhaps this man's chosen ally in battle was a sword rather than an axe, though Anna could see the use of both weapons.

"It's wonderful to meet you at last, Anna. Your father has spoken to me about your enthusiasm to learn how to fight. The gods are generous toward brave women."

Anna snapped out of her reverie. She curled her fingers into fists at her side, though she could barely stay flat on her feet. Her lips pressed into a thin line. Look big, look brave,  _fierce_! She couldn't look weak, and she  _definitely_  couldn't look too excited. She nodded, narrowing her eyes; her father stood behind Fritjof, stoic as ever, though she thought she caught a small twinkle in his eye. No, perhaps it had been her imagination.

"I want to fight in the shield wall," she declared.

Her father gave a start. His upper lip twitched and trembled, his face went pink, then red and a thick vein began to show on his forehead. When she spoke, his voice was low and grave.

"Anna, we have spoken about this. You will not fight in the shield wall. Fritjof will teach you how to fight and you will do so when it is necessary." He stepped forward to stand beside Fritjof, his gaze hard and his jaw tight. He was tense, his shoulders were hunched high, and Anna knew this stance all too well. It was the 'my-word-is-law-and-I-will-not-change-my-mind' stance.

She hated it.

Sometimes she wondered if Elsa inherited it, they could be so alike at times that it was scary. This stance meant business, and Anna knew she should fear what would happen if she said no. She didn't want to find out either. Instead, she remained still and silent, her mouth had a tendency to get her in trouble.

A light laugh cut the tension between the two. Anna blinked, her jaw dropping when the man gave a few good-hearted slaps on her father's shoulder. In all her years, she had never seen anyone be so friendly with her ever-so-stoic father and—wait, was that a  _smile_  she just saw on her father's face? Just who exactly  _was_  this man?

"Lighten up Agdar, you've always been so uptight. Even when you trained me, you never once smiled! Ah, there it is, that manly smile. I'm sure Anna will make a formidable opponent."

As if sensing her confusion, her father turned his attention back to Anna.

"Anna, you've met Fritjof some time ago. That boy I used to spar with, that was him. He's turned out to be a real warrior, and I trust that you'll learn well from him."

Anna's eyes widened, recalling a boy years ago who sparred with her father every day. She had been very young at the time, too young to join them, but old enough to watch from afar. She could recall a vague memory of a greeting, but they never spoke after that. He was just another boy, at the time, who wouldn't allow her to join him and his friends with her wooden swords. But was he really that same, cocky boy?

Anna closed her mouth, having just realized her shock was still apparent.

"I—wait," she turned her gaze to rest on her father, "how come you won't teach me?" The smile faded from his face and Anna almost wished she had just shut her mouth and accepted who she was being offered to train with, without question. Why did her big mouth always screw things up?

"I'm afraid I have other matters I must attend to."

He gave a nod to the both of them, turned on his heels, and left.

It was then that it occurred to Anna that there were now two enigmas in her life, her father and Elsa.

* * *

Anna witnessed her first sacrifice when she was ten years old.

Though she had always been curious (and perhaps a little envious once Elsa was allowed to watch), she had never expected to see what she  _did_ see.

Blood. There was blood everywhere, yet people rejoiced. It was not a sad occasion. No, a sacrifice to the gods should (and would) never be somber. Yet, she was excited, but it wasn't because this was the first time she could watch her father perform a ritual, but because Elsa was in attendance with her. For the first time in years, she was able to share  _something_  with her older sister.

Everyone gathered into a crowded circle around the chosen sacrifice. The drums began to beat against the billowing of the wind.

She was nervous, that she could tell from the way her stomach was flipping. The slow beat of the drums vibrated through her limbs. She shifted closer to Elsa, brushing their hands, seeking comfort in the fact that her sister was still there

Elsa flinched, causing Anna to look up at her.

Her sister's face was like stone, her jaw set and her eyes hard. She recoiled from Anna's touch, her fingers trembling as she cupped them against her chest. Her lips moved, in the way Anna had seen them move in the past, like a ritual—she murmured under her breath. It was too low to hear anything coherent, but Anna suspected by the formations of her mouth, that she was repetitive with her phrases.

Anna flitted her eyes to the crowd, wondering if she had missed something, if there was a prayer or a chant they were expected to utter before the sacrifice. Elsa's lips were the only ones moving.

Once Agdar appeared, the crowd turned their attention to him and Elsa remained rigid by her side, no longer murmuring.

A goat stood in the center of the crowd. It shifted its head and its large, beady eyes made contact with her own. Anna gave a small, inaudible gasp like air was caught within her throat and refused to fill her lungs. She backed into Elsa, who released a hiss at the unexpected movement. Anna's fingers curled into the skirt of her purple dress, trembling. The goat's eyes saw straight through her, as if it were already looking Frey in the face—as if it were accepting its fate.

How could it?

" _Anna_ ," Elsa hissed in her ear, but Anna paid no mind. Her heart hammered in her chest with a feeling of trepidation of what she was about to see.

She knew this was necessary. Her father had told her the stories of the gods, how they fought valiantly to keep their people, and the Earth, from harm. How the gods filled the seas with water, made the sun rise and the moon shine, allowed flowers to bloom in spring and tested their strength with harsh winters, then to be rewarded with a rich harvest afterward. This was a sacrifice to Frey, with the hope that the god would allow the crops to grow plenty this year.

The drums paused.

Her father chanted.

The axe ascended, then descended with a clean cut.

Anna tensed, her eyes wide and the blood drained from her face as red, thick hot liquid poured into the empty bowls.

She gave a thick swallow before she found that she could breathe again. The shock had come in waves, then faded as the drums beat again and the people chanted and cheered. Droplets of blood was splattered onto the carved statue of Frey.

Then, she felt it. It was as if then and there that she _knew_  Frey was pleased, and the harvest will be rich this year.

With a wide smile, Anna turned to look behind her, only to find the end of Elsa's skirts slip through the crowd.

Two, small patches of ice glittered, melting where Elsa had stood.

* * *

Elsa could sing.

Like  _really_  sing.

Anna could only  _wish_  she had a voice so beautiful.

But Elsa was shy. She never liked to have an audience, and Anna just couldn't fathom  _why_. It was only by chance that Anna had heard her.

Soft, low, powerful words that fell from her lips like a chime; more delicate than a drum, but the tone just as resonant. The tune was soothing. So soothing that sometimes Anna would find herself relaxing, particularly after a hard day of sparring.

She peeked past the threshold (careful not to get caught), to find her sister situated by the window. Her eyes were closed and her eyebrows creased, a wrinkle caught near the bridge of her nose. Her hands were clasped within her lap, occasionally gathering the blue fabric of her dress. A long, feathery note resounded, then faded away until she sang no more.

Anna's breath caught in her throat. She wanted to clap, to gather her older sister in her arms and celebrate her talent—ask her if she could teach her how to sing just as beautifully.

But the thick atmosphere that hung over the room was not something to celebrate, and Anna left with a pang in her heart, wondering why Elsa couldn't just  _smile_.

It had been then that she vowed to smile large enough for the both of them.

* * *

It was rare that anyone visited Arendelle. In all her lifetime, Anna couldn't recall longboats that weren't of her own people, docking at the fjord. And when she looked to her father to ask, she had found his expression to be just as curious and bewildered as she felt; so she kept her mouth shut.

She didn't follow her parents when they left her side to greet the newcomers.

The men carried shields on their backs and swords at their hips. Most of them had short hair, while some of them adorned long braids with tattoos up their arms.

As her father approached, Anna strained to hear what they were saying, but the gusts were so strong that it carried their voices away from her.

Catching movement at her side from the corner of her eye, Anna resisted a smile that began to creep its way on her lips. Elsa stood next to her with a pensive face, her sister's lips thinned into a tight line. Anna recognized the wringing of her hands; watched as she picked and pulled at her slender fingers.

It always drove Anna crazy, she got nervous just  _watching_  her.

Turning her gaze away from her older sister, Anna bit her lip before she brought a hand to cover her mouth when she gave an exaggerated cough, clearing her throat.

"Soooo," she started, trying to make light conversation to break the awkward silence. "What do you think they're here for?"

Elsa stilled and dropped her arms to her sides. There was something about the way her hand shook when she reached up to curl her fingers around her sapphire necklace—as if it were a lifeline—which put Anna on edge.

"An alliance," she replied.

Anna couldn't help but notice that Elsa's voice quavered.

She didn't know why, but at this realization, she felt her heart drop to her stomach.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this chapter sets everything up until present time in the story. I know, it's a little slow-going, but things will pick up soon I promise!
> 
> Leave a comment if you can and hopefully the next chapter will be up by the end of this month :)


	3. A Heart too Big

She charged in, slamming her shield against the side of her opponent and raised her right arm. Her fingers gripped the handle of her blade, and swiped downward. Fritjof spun to her left, dodging the blow, and hooked his axe underneath the guard of her sword, spiraling it out of her grasp.

"Wha — no!" Anna gasped. She dove forward and reached out to her sword, the tips of her fingers just grazing its hilt before it fell into the sand.

Fritjof's hand took her by the collar and dragged her to the tips of her toes. Anna grit her teeth and viciously pried at his hands when the cold sharp end of his axe kissed her throat.

He dropped her. Anna fell on her back with a groan and spat onto the ground.

"You need to trust your shield and be patient. You're still charging in too quickly and leaving your sides vulnerable."

Sitting up, she wiped grains of sand from the corner of her mouth with the back of her hand. One of her braids began to unravel and patches of mud stains coated the brown fabric of her worn trousers and tunic. She rolled onto her stomach and spat out another thick wad of saliva. Her arms ached and when she braced herself on her hands and knees to push herself upright, an electrifying shock that felt more like a burn, raced up her limbs. Anna clenched her teeth, fought the pain as she felt her arms begin to buckle, and managed to push herself back onto her feet.

All the while, Fritjof watched her. He twirled his axe on one finger before he ceased his hand and rested his weapon by his side. He circled her, watched her like a hawk to its prey, until he was standing over her. With the toe of his boot, he kicked up Anna's sword. She watched with muted horror when it was freed from beneath the thick grains of sand and hurled toward her. She moved fast, but not fast enough to grasp the handle and instead, her fingers clumsily smacked it. Anna shrieked when the blade flipped toward her, she drew her hands back to her chest and ducked; it flew over her head and the sound of steel splitting through a soft pocket of sand echoed behind her.

"Try it again," he said and pulled back. This time he held his shield up high and waited.

Anna took hold of her sword and held her own shield so it covered her upper body. She gave a slight bend of her knees so as to hold her balance and positioned her sword at a slant in front of her shield. She gave a side step and he moved likewise. When she stepped again, they began their dance.

They circled each other like two prowling cats, ready to dominate the other in a show of skill and brawn. Anna jerked her shield closer to herself when he made the first move. With a lightning fast strike, Fritjof's axe made contact with the side of the wood of her shield, effectively forcing her to stagger backwards on her heels. Her left arm stung from the blunt of the blow, but she only had a split second to recover when he stepped to her right and swung again. This time, Anna was ready as she guided her shield into the path of his axe. At the crack of steel against wood, she pushed forward and attempted a slash to his middle with her sword. She smirked at the look of surprise that flashed across his countenance when he tried to move his shield with the path of her blade, but he was a moment too late as the sharp steel ripped through his gray tunic and nicked his skin. A small patch of blood began to bleed through the fabric. Fritjof let out a hiss through the clench of his teeth.

Anna kept her shield up and raised her sword high, anticipating his next strike. He lifted his axe and she stiffened, but relaxed a split second later when he dropped his weapon on the ground and lowered his shield. When he raised his hands in a mock surrender, he let out a hearty laugh. "It was about time you managed to strike me, it only took you  _months_!"

Anna rolled her eyes.

"But," he said and raised his brows as he began to remove his brown leather bracers. "You still have a long way to go. You move your shield around too much, you need to steady it otherwise you'll be vulnerable to counter attacks."

Anna pursed her lips and groaned, "I thought I was holding it steady this time!"

"You were holding it steadier than you used to, but your form still needs improvement." When Fritjof leaned down to pick up his axe and shield, Anna's attention shifted to the wide open doors of the longhouse.

A myriad of emotions swarmed within her before a wave of confusion crashed into her. If it weren't for the fact that the doors were open, perhaps Anna would have swept a blind eye over her home, but it felt as though something was amiss. As though something was about to happen. Did her father decide that it was time to allow people to come and go as they pleased within the Grand Hall? Most had to request from the outside before they were allowed to have an audience with the Jarl. Never in her life did Anna remember her father willingly leave the doors open, not even for the festivities.

"Annnna, hello? You in there or are you dreaming about some big, burly—gah!" he coughed out when she drove her elbow into his stomach. Though she was unsteady on her feet, Anna knew the power behind her arms — particularly her punches — compensated. She gave an inward snicker when a wry smile crossed her lips, she hoped he would still feel that in the morning. She felt her cheeks grow hot at his earlier implication despite knowing that it was a playful tease. What plagued her mind was beyond the simplistic idea of attractive, charming men; men she would soon join in battle.

"By the gods, I'm starting to think you take after your father. I might have to find a way to permanently curve your lips into a smile if you keep it up!"

Anna sucked in her lips then blew a raspberry. "I think you're confusing me with Elsa. She takes after him more than I do."

"Your sister?" he asked and Anna silently berated herself for even mentioning Elsa. She knew how reclusive her older sister could be, it would be a miracle if Anna ever even caught  _her_  smiling. Mingling was not something Elsa liked to engage in, of course Fritjof (like many others in the village) would perk up at the mention of the Jarl's eldest daughter. She was an enigma: rarely seen by the public eye, yet she was cherished and adored — the perfect woman; the perfect  _daughter_.

Anna had given up long ago trying to appease her father — trying to earn the attention of others — but she was trapped in her sister's shadow, overlooked and forgotten.

She would never be good enough, not even for her own sister.

"Yeah . . ." she murmured so softly that she wasn't sure if he even heard her. With her eyes still set on the open doors of the longhouse, she curled her hand into a fist, tight enough that her nails dug into her palm. A half smile forced its way on her lips. "Maybe later I can introduce you to her."

Fritjof was quiet for a long moment as he shifted beside her. When she glanced at him, she tried to decipher the unreadable expression that had cast over his face so suddenly that Anna wasn't even sure if this was the man she had come to befriend and think of as a comrade over the last few months. But it was short lived and a teasing smile broke out across his features.

"Alright, you had your few minutes of relaxation. It's time for me to kick your ass again!"

For a second, Anna entertained the thought of driving her fist through his face.

* * *

Elsa curved the blade of her knife along the edges of the wood, smoothing the outside down to the shape of her carving. The wolf's head arched upward, its mouth open and sincere in a ritualistic howl as its body curved and twisted in a spiraling descent around the shape of the cylinder like knots. She stopped to trace a finger along every jagged curve that represented its fur, smoothing the shavings from the art. With a pucker of her lips, she cast a gentle breath of arctic air over the carving, blowing any unnecessary remains of wood from the pendant. A light coating of frost shimmered over the wolf, staining its fur white.

"Elsa."

With a gasp, she dropped the pendant. It clattered onto the floor and spun on its side before it finally came to rest, face down.

Elsa stood from her place on her bed and curled her hands at her sides. She watched her father with wide eyes, but didn't dare speak. His eyes swept over the tidiness of her room, glanced down at the misplaced wood carving, but spoke nothing of it when he crossed the threshold and made his way toward her.

"Elsa," he started again and halted before her, but kept his distance. In the back of her mind, she wondered if he did so because she had ordered him to in the past or because he knew that she was cursed — because he was afraid of her.

 _Who wouldn't be?_ She felt weak at such a thought.

She took in a breath, counted to four, and straightened her back to the point where she felt stiff as a rod.

"Elsa, we need to talk." His voice was low, but she knew what was coming. They've had this conversation many times before over the past few months. Ever since those men had come and left with the proposal of an alliance. Her father had warned her that it would eventually come to this, but she had hoped that it wouldn't be so soon.

Silence passed between them and she could feel her control slipping.

"I've told you Papa, I  _can't_." She clenched her teeth, could feel the nausea crash through her at the mere  _thought_.

_Why me?_

"I know, but you have to try. This alliance is important. I don't want to push you, but we are running out of  _time_  Elsa."

No, he didn't understand. He didn't want to understand; he never understood. Every agreement her father made had a motive; and every made decision was either for his place as Jarl, or it was because of her. Elsa tried not to think about it, tried not to think about the way her father would steal glances at her during ceremonies, or the way he would make sure there was always distance between her and Anna. He was afraid. The problem was, Elsa wasn't sure if he was afraid  _for_ her, or if he was afraid  _of_  her.

She didn't answer him, instead her eyes trailed to the fallen carving — face down on the wooden floor — helpless and alone.

When Agdar drew nearer, Elsa took a few steps away, keeping her distance from him. She wrapped her arms around herself and tucked her chin. She couldn't look at him, couldn't see the disappointment, the  _sadness_  in his eyes.

"Elsa —"

" _I can't_! Don't you see?" She swallowed the lump in her throat and shifted, turning her gaze to glance at her father. White puffs of air manifested from his breath. She knew that it was her fault. "I can't control it. It's getting stronger and I lack control. If anyone were to find out . . . — I could  _hurt_  someone! I'm a danger. I'm . . ." she trailed off, but the last of her words hung between them.

 _A monster_.

Her father stepped toward her again, but she didn't move away this time. There was nowhere else to go, she was tense. Agdar lifted a hand and reached out to her as if to place a hand on her shoulder. Her face was pensive and he hesitated. His hand fell back to his side. The bags under his eyes were darker up close, more prominent. She remembered a time when she was very young, where she would hug him and accept the comfort of his arms; but the days in which she sought consolidation in her parents grew seldom and now nonexistent.

Elsa's eyes flickered to the wolf carving on the ground.

Her father wouldn't look at her. She suspected that his loss of words were due to shame. Shame that had no place in his head. She never blamed him, her curse was her own burden to endure, not his.

_Conceal it._

"I understand. Perhaps Anna could seal the alliance in your place."

" _No_!" The words burst from her mouth before she could stop them. She could feel as though her heart jumped into her throat.

Agdar looked taken aback, his eyes wide at her outburst.

Her hands shook and she could feel her control slipping. Ice cracked at her feet.

"Anna shouldn't have to be bound. She's . . . she's miserable as it is. It'll destroy her."

 _All because of_  me.

Why should Anna's freedom be the expense of Elsa's comfort?

She squeezed her eyes shut, took in shuttering breaths. The frigid air filled her lungs as she tried to abate the rate at which the frost formed. She cupped her hands around the sapphire necklace and pressed it to her skin. She focused on its fluttery pulse and the cold-hot sensation that burned against her fingers as it began to react to the storm of her powers. The light flurry that had begun to dust the room swarmed around her like a rush of a raging blizzard for the span of half a second before it dispersed and vanished; she felt its energy within the confinements of the crystal beneath the flutter of her fingers.

Agdar sighed and it was then that Elsa noticed how much older he looked. Where his hair had always been neatly groomed and pulled back into a careful, low tail, was now unkempt with the beginnings of gray strands of hair at the roots. His body seemed to sag under the weight from years of stress and his eyes wrinkled with weariness. The man who stood before her was not the powerful and confident leader he once was, but rather a defeated man filled with sorrow and guilt. For a fraction of a second, Elsa allowed herself to wonder how much of this was due to her mere existence. How much longer could her father take before he collapsed? How much longer before he accidentally fell victim to her wintry powers — struck through the heart?

"Elsa, do you remember what I told you about what a leader must sacrifice? Even in the heat of a battle, whether it is on the battlefield or within himself?" he asked and Elsa's hands fell away from her necklace as her eyes met his.

"Yes," she murmured with a thick swallow and became all too aware of the distance her father had just put between them. Her chest felt heavy. The words wouldn't leave her lips.

"You must lead with your head, not your heart."

_Conceal._

_Never feel._

"You must never allow your emotions to control you. Those who lead with a heart too large and a mind too fragile will lose sight of what is important and every warrior that Freyja takes with her back to Fólkvangr will be lost in vain. Do you understand?" His words vibrated through her like how thunder would rattle the earth and stuck to her like a leech, she felt as though all energy had been sucked from her being. Elsa could feel her legs begin to buckle and for a moment she feared that she'd collapse and find herself on the brink of another arctic episode.

"Yes Papa." Elsa whispered, lowering her gaze. She couldn't look him in the eye, not when she knew that no matter how hard she tried, she could never please him.

Agdar's gaze softened, as if he were not observing his own daughter, but rather a frail warrior who'd given up the will to fight.

Another stretch of silence passed between them and Elsa wanted nothing more than to disappear. Instead, she took a deep breath and straightened her posture until she was poised and perfect. She swallowed the last of her doubt, despite how she felt the churning of nerves in her stomach and raised her eyes to meet her father's. Her fate was beyond her grasp and though she could feign confidence in front of Agdar and earn his approval, she resolved to never allow him to taint Anna's freedom.

Elsa pressed her lips tight and hardened her cerulean gaze as her father began toward the door. He halted before stepping through the threshold and though he managed a small crack of a smile, her cast a soft, sorrowful look over his shoulder. Then he was gone.

She stood still in the middle of her room, and for the first time in years, she felt the overwhelming urge to escape its suffocating walls.

Elsa wrapped herself in a blue cloak and smoothed her fingers over the fur lining the hood. She cast her gaze down toward the carving she had been working on before her father's arrival and bent down to pick it up. She rolled the wooden carving between her fingers and contemplated wearing it. The howling wolf rolled to a stop within her palm and she found herself reaching up toward the crystal hanging from her neck, hidden beneath the fabric of her dress. She felt the chill of her powers race to her finger tips, but she pushed them back, feeling them the crystal hold them in place; blocking the ice.

She placed the carving on her stand and walked out of her room.

Elsa passed the dying fire in the center of the Grand Hall, where her father would address their people, listen to trials, turn boys into men with the honor of a golden arm ring and paused at the large throne that was covered in various animal furs. A rush of uncertainty crashed into her and she forced herself to look away, absently smoothing her hands over the light blue fabric of her overdress.

It wasn't before long that she stood at the threshold of the entrance-way to the hall and peaked past the open doors. A light breeze brushed against her pale cheeks and played with her loose bangs, but the braided bun stayed put at the back of her head and she could feel the fur of her cloak tickle the nape of her neck. Though it was a chilly day, Elsa embraced the cold. It made her feel liberated in a way that nothing else could. Yet, she found herself pulling the cloak closer around herself in an attempt to look as normal as the other women who were out, braving the cold wind.

Her feet didn't intend to cross the doorway, but her eyes swept along the fjord as if watching her people for the first time as they docked the long boats, cut wood, and sparred in the sand. The mountains stood erect, surrounding the village of Arendelle and its waters as a symbol and promise of protection.

In the distance, she caught sight of two familiar faces. Elsa inclined her head, almost standing on the tips of her toes as she recognized one of them to be Anna and the other a loyal man, a young friend of her father, flailing in a rough bout of swords, axes and shields.

She watched, entranced by the swift efforts of their moves and the echoing pang of metal on metal — metal against wood. It was nothing she hadn't seen before, but somehow it felt refreshing. Her feet itched to move, perhaps join them in the art of their shields, but she knew that would be dangerous. Not for her, never her, but for them.

Elsa continued to watch as Anna struggled to her feet and positioned her footing just right, before Fritjof slammed against her with his shield and took another swing with his axe. Elsa held her breath when Anna just barely manage to block the blow to her side.

"There you are, I was wondering where you had gone off to. You usually don't go far from your room." Elsa turned to find that her mother had taken residence beside her, a small smile crossed the older woman's face, but Elsa found that she couldn't return a genuine one of her own. Instead, she looked back to where Anna was sparring.

Her sister was now rolling in the sand, avoiding a strike that could have lost her an arm.

"You didn't tell me that Anna was learning how to fight," she commented, watching Fritjof pull Anna to her feet and by the annoyed look on her sister's face, he was probably giving her an earful of her mistakes.

Idun sighed, "Your father isn't very happy about it himself, but he decided that she should at least know how to defend herself."

Anna tossed her sword behind her once Fritjof had abandoned his axe, and dig her heels into the ground, positioning her shield before herself.

"She looks happy," Elsa observed. There was a twinkle in Anna's eyes that betrayed her concentrated expression.

"I think she enjoys the thrill of the fight."

Elsa frowned. One of her fingers twisted into the fabric of her cloak.

"She wants to fight in the shield wall, doesn't she." Though Elsa never had much of a chance to interact with Anna often, she could never deny the adventurous streak her sister always had. Anna wasn't exactly subtle about her desires, even if she thought she could hide them.

Her mother was silent for a long while. Anna must have been knocked off her feet at least three times before she managed to utter a response, "I don't know."

It was then that Anna caught sight of them, a wide smile bloomed along her cheeks and she bent down to pick up her sword and sling her shield over her shoulder. Making her way over, her arm raised in the air and she waved enthusiastically with Fritjof not too far behind.

Beside Elsa, Idun returned the smile and waved.

As they moved closer, Elsa resisted the urge to back away and retreat to her room, but her feet stayed rooted at the doorway. With her shoulders held high, Elsa erected herself and stiffened her limbs.

Anna raced over with a toothy grin, spread her arms wide and all but threw herself into her mother's arms.

Idun shifted backward, re-balancing herself to accommodate Anna's weight. The two held the embrace for what seemed like an hour before they pulled apart. Idun cupped Anna by the chin and wiped a smudge of dirt from her cheek with her thumb. Elsa could see how much effort it took for Anna to just stand still. That wide smile still hadn't left her face.

"I'm back! I mean, well, I'm not  _back_  back because I didn't really go anywhere, but . . . did you see me?" Anna bit her lip, a light blush now dusted her cheeks as she looked up at her mother like a child.

Idun let out a light chuckle and brushed the grimy, strawberry blonde bangs from her daughter's eyes.

"Hmm, I think your balance may need practice. However, your father would know how to judge your combat skills better than I." A tiny smile bloomed along Anna's face at Idun's gentle tone, yet the mirth in her mother's eyes could not be mistaken.

Elsa felt as though she were intruding.

She began to turn on her heels, the comforts of her room on her mind, but Anna's voice, loud and cheerful, stopped her.

"Elsa! What — I mean, you're not going back to your room are you? I was hoping, you know, that we could . . . talk? Catch up? Have you met Fritjof?"

"Anna," Idun cut in, reaching out to lay a hand on Anna's shoulder to calm her. Anna furrowed her brows and turned her eyes to their mother. "Give your sister some time." Anna deflated at these words. Elsa watched, with guilt, as her sister's energetic state dissipated and when Anna stepped closer, Elsa couldn't help but notice that she was hesitant.

"I — I mean . . ." Anna's eyes shifted to stare down the hall, hesitant to even look at Elsa. Her uncertainty stuck out like a thorn on a rose. Elsa had always witnessed her sister to be energetic and confident, the realization that she brought out this uncertain side of her made Elsa loathe herself even more. "That is . . . if you want to . . ." Anna snuck a sideways glance up at her, biting her lower lip.

Elsa wanted to refuse her. She wanted to explain the danger that hovered around her and threatened her loved ones, especially Anna. Always Anna. Yet, Elsa knew that if she refused her, it would be like kicking a child. Instead, Elsa righted herself to face Anna and feigned a small smile. It hurt. She dug her fingers into the sides of her blue cloak, wrinkling the fabric within her palms. She so desperately wanted to put a smile on Anna's face, to satisfy her curiosity. Most of all, Elsa wanted to know her sister too. But she couldn't, and the realization that she might never do so stung.

"Alright, just for a little while."

The wide smile that spread along Anna's face at her words made Elsa recognize just how important this was to her sister. Anna, always the energetic one — always running, climbing, jumping, and giggling. She could never contain her excitement. Elsa knew that this moment was big, and seeing her little sister so happy made all of her pain and self-sacrifice worthwhile. She would travel to Valhalla and back with a raven tearing at her limbs if it meant for Anna to be this happy all the time.

Elsa almost felt a smile curl at her own lips, but it was short-lived when Anna reached out to take her hand. Elsa pulled back, her heart hammering against her chest was the only thing she heard when Anna's chatter dropped like a stone through water.

They stared at each other for a few moments, Anna furrowing her brows as her hand was left suspended between them and Elsa chewed the inside of her cheek as her arms retreated behind the safety of her cloak. She held her breath, counted silently and listened as the fire crackled and popped behind them in the Great Hall until she felt the sudden chill of her powers recede back into her skin.

Anna, as if just realizing that she was still reaching out for her, clapped her hands together and attempted a new smile, one that was strained. Elsa inwardly berated herself —  _no one_  should have to feel rejected by their own kin. No one deserved that, especially not Anna.

Anna deserved so much more than Elsa could ever give her; Anna's happiness and safety meant more than her own. Yet, she wondered, would Anna be better off without her?

Elsa gave a jerky shake of her head to ward off such thoughts — thoughts that were a trail into a dark cave where she may never find her way back.

"Elsa?"

Then Anna pulled her back out, her bright eyes shining in the stream of light that bathed them between the large, wooden doors that had been left ajar. And despite its light warmth against her back on a chilly, early spring day, it could never compare to the warmth she found in Anna's eyes.

It felt more like home than her own room could ever bring.

When Elsa realized that she was standing, watching with her eyes wide and mouth open like a gaping fish a moment too long did she manage to compose herself, forcing herself to ignore the racing of her heart and the intermittent tremors that wracked her body.

Elsa felt the steady pulse of her sapphire necklace against her skin, helping her to keep her magic at bay.

Folding her hands together, she forced a weak smile.

Anna shifted on her feet and clenched her hands at her sides, moving them upward only to drop them again.

"So . . . oh! Why don't we sit by the fire? I mean it's a little chilly by the doors isn't it? You must be cold," Anna said, eyeing Elsa's cloak and jumped to her feet, bouncing all the way to the benches that surrounded the embers of what was left of the fire. Fritjof casually took a seat, rubbed his hands together and drifted them over the fire, the sleeves of his tunic blotched with sand and mud.

Elsa followed, aware of the distance she should put between both of them as she sat in a chair, its back facing the grand doors. With Fritjof already seated to her left, Anna plopped down to her right and began to peel off her thick boots, the fur around the edges caked with wet sand.

Elsa scrunched her nose when Anna shook the last of the sand from the inside of each boot and spread her toes near the end of the pit to the dying embers of the fire could dry them.

"Oh! Elsa, have you met Fritjof?" Before Elsa could answer, Anna dropped her feet and turned her gaze to the man on Elsa's left, an excited smile began to quirk on her lips.

"Fritjof, this is my sister Elsa. Elsa, this is Fritjof . . . he's been teaching me how to fight."

At this, Fritjof gave a chuckle and he shook his head in what Elsa could only assume was amusement. He then shifted his body to face her as his laughter began to fade and held out his hand as if expecting her to offer her own.

"We've already met, Anna no worries. Though I'm afraid we have never had a chance to exchange words. It's always a pleasure to be in your company, Elsa."

Elsa felt her back grow stiff as she placed her hands on her lap and gave a small smile. His ability to relax in her presence was foreign to her, and though she had met him more than just a few times, Elsa couldn't help but find this unsettling.

"My apologies," she began with a glance down at his open hand, "my father keeps me too busy during the day to engage in small talk. I hope I haven't offended you." She didn't move when he dropped his hand and smiled, chuckling at her words.

"Not at all. Though I wonder why Jarl Agdar would lock his own precious daughter away when she should be able to enjoy the simple pleasures of life?" he queried, resting his elbows on his knees as he leaned his head toward her with raised eyebrows and a calculated smile.

Elsa lifted her chin and fought the frown that threatened to mar her features. Her blue eyes flashed, reflecting the light of the small fire that began to ignite between the three of them.

"Life is more than just simple pleasures. Nothing is as simple as it seems, some people just need to stop taking what they have for granted," she remarked, a small smirk curling on the side of her mouth at the satisfaction of seeing Fritjof's smile drop slightly.

Though it vanished the second it appeared, his discomfort made her less wary of him.

Fritjof straightened his back and adjusted himself on the bench, running a hand through his messy light brown hair. His eyes shifted to the fire and back to her a moment after with an amused twinkle in his eye.

"An interesting perspective, has your father told you that? Life has many meanings, it is why there are so many gods of course. Thor the god of thunder, Frey the god of prosperity, Freyja the goddess of fertility and war, Skadi —"

"The goddess of winter," Elsa cut in with a slight purse of her lips. The fire popped as Anna added more wood and Fritjof rubbed his hands together near the flames, but his eyes never left hers. Elsa clenched her hands into fists on her lap when she felt the ice begin to awaken again. She tried to ignore it. "I have heard the legends of the gods just as every child has, my father has taught me plenty, but I'm afraid my perspective on the meaning of life was not learned merely through my parents' voices."

She half expected Fritjof to counter, but instead he gave a wide smile and a nod of his head followed by a roll of his shoulders to relax his muscles.

"Interesting," he remarked.

Anna sat back down with a plop, holding a horn in her hand with carved knots on either side traveling from the sharp end and up the curve to its orifice. She flashed Elsa a sly smile before she took a small sip. Anna's face contorted as she swallowed the contents and promptly passed it to her.

Elsa took the horn and glanced down at the swirling liquid. The smell was strong and distinctive, she could almost feel her nostrils burning.

"Mead? Anna, we shouldn't be having this —"

"Come  _on_  Elsa, Papa has let me take a few sips before come on! Drink it!"

Elsa bit her lip, her hold on the horn like a vice. The smell was too overbearing. After a few moments, she shook her head. No, it was too dangerous. What if it had a negative effect on her powers? What if she couldn't control them in her altered state? What if . . . what if she hurt Anna?

"Elsa?" Anna called, and Elsa could help but notice the slight tremor in her sister's voice, highlighting her uncertainty.

"Sorry," she murmured and passed the horn to Fritjof without taking a sip. It was safer this way. She jerked her hand back when his fingers brushed against hers. Elsa wrapped her arms around her middle when both Anna and Fritjof shot her questioning looks.

She should leave soon.

This was becoming too much, despite how she was enjoying her sister's company. When was the last time she had been allowed to speak to her like this?

"So," Elsa started, drawing their attention away from her odd behavior, "Tell me about your training."

Anna beamed at her and Elsa was afraid for a moment that she would fall out of her seat from sheer excitement.

"Oh, Fritjof has been a wonderful mentor! Though it took a few tries to convince Papa, but he's letting me now . . . it's been almost a year but Fritjof says I'm a slow learner because I'm stubborn."

"You are and you're also a sore loser," Fritjof remarked, handing the horn back to Anna who accepted it and waved a hand dismissively at him, her attention was completely on her sister.

Elsa gave a small smile, enjoying the little silent banter between the two of them. It was as if they were siblings, if Elsa had been a stranger, she would have thought so.

At this thought, a tinge of jealousy filled her being, threatening to swallow her whole. It was foolish and the thought was fleeting. She wanted to be the sister Anna wanted, the sister Anna deserved. She wanted to watch over her, tell her stories and chase bullies and men away like an older sister should. Instead, she had to distance herself, forced to chase Anna away when her sister's curiosity became suffocating.

There was a time when Elsa thought Anna hated her.

Part of her still thinks she does.

"That's good, I'm sure Papa would want you to learn how to defend yourself."  _He worries about you._

"Actually," Anna said as she passed the horn to Fritjof who downed the last of its contents. A tiny smile spread along Anna's face. "I want to be a shieldmaiden."

The temperature in the room took a dive. The fire flickered. Anna shivered, averting her eyes as she shifted closer to the fire.

Elsa gripped her seat so tightly that her fingers ached, her knuckles paling. "What," she started and swallowed, "what did Papa say?" Her voice trembled, but Anna didn't seem to notice. Fritjof's eyes bore into her, as if he were anticipating her every move — like she was an animal.

It was a few moments before Anna answered, but to Elsa, it felt like days.

"Well he didn't really  _say_  anything, it was more like . . ." Anna trailed off, biting her lower lip.

Elsa's gaze darkened, a frown marring her visage.

She ignored the chill that swept through the room, extinguishing the fire, and the pulsating of her sapphire necklace which was nestled against her skin.

"You never told him." she stated, her eyes searching her sister's expression, desperate to find that she was wrong. Anna confirmed her suspicions when she furrowed her brows and looked away.

Elsa's heart began to race, drumming against her chest.

She began to tremble, she wanted to scream.

Anna sighed, shifting her legs so they were closer to her body, her hand came up to brush a few of her bangs from her face. Her lips moved, parted then closed again. She scrunched her nose, contemplating. Then when she spoke, her words came in light puffs of white clouds, but Elsa was too wrapped up in her muted fury to notice.

"I did tell him—"

"And he allowed you?" Elsa cut in, her eyes wide. Disbelief clawed at her as she tried to make sense of what her younger sister was claiming and imagined just how their father would react. After spending years of observing and learning from her father — despite having to stay indoors and preferring not to engage herself in most of Arendelle's traditional festivities — Elsa learned that Agdar was not the most receptive man nor was his compassion apparent. This was something Elsa had learned to realize and she doubted he would ever accept the idea of one of his daughters — his only  _normal_ daughter — out on the battlefield as a shieldmaiden. He would allow Anna to do almost anything, but he was too protective of his youngest to allow her to sacrifice herself, not if he had the power to subdue her.

Teaching Anna to defend herself was different than training her how to survive within a shield wall. She had to understand that defending herself against a single assailant was different than fighting behind a shield wall.

Anna lifted her head and met Elsa's icy gaze with fire in her own. The flames within the pit had long gone, but it seemed that Anna had absorbed its heat within her resolve. Elsa noted how she stiffened her shoulders and locked her jaw. Her cheeks were aflame with a pink hue and her nostrils flared.

"No he didn't, but I don't care. I've seen women fight before in the shield wall. They get to travel the seas and come back with treasures, they get to see the  _world_! I want to see it for myself and I want to fight alongside Papa."

It took all Elsa had to keep her powers under control as her disbelief and fury increased to an inferno that rushed from her neck to her cheeks.

"You can't fight in the shield wall, Anna." she protested and it took her a moment to realize that this declaration was that of her own — not their father's. She loved Anna too much to allow her to sacrifice herself on the battlefield. If Agdar couldn't keep her from the shield wall, then Elsa would make sure she does. She would drag her home by the hair, kicking and screaming if she had to.

Anna recoiled for a split second before she tried to mask the surprise on her face with indignation. "I've already started training, Elsa. Just because Papa doesn't approve doesn't mean I can't fight!"

Elsa felt her breaths begin to shorten as the anger continued to build. This discussion was not going how she hoped it would. "This isn't about Papa's approval Anna, this is about your life!"

"I can handle myself just fine!" Anna retorted, rising to her feet. Her hands balled into fists at her sides and she clenched her teeth as she glared down at her older sister who frowned, unperturbed by Anna's display of defiance. Instead of matching Anna's stance, Elsa lifted her chin at an angle and pressed her lips thin, her displeasure far from subtle.

"Just barely a year of training is not enough. You will not step foot near a shield wall. Your shield will be used for your own protection when it is needed and  _only_  that!" Elsa argued.

"Did Papa tell you that or are you trying to trap me here just like  _you_  have been your entire life?" Anna hissed.

Elsa's eyes widened, and it was then that she had become aware of the ice at the tips of her fingers. "Anna, that's not what I meant —"

"No, I know what you meant. You can't stand the fact that you're the only one who's miserable so you want me to stay here and be miserable  _with_  you!"

Elsa shot to her feet, her eyes never leaving the unbridled fury that burned in her sister's eyes — nor could she ignore the shine of tears that began to well there, but she didn't dare touch her. "Anna," she tried and couldn't keep the tremor from her voice, but her sister didn't want to hear it. All of Anna's pent up frustration and resentment toward the older woman was unleashing like a barrage of firing arrows, and Elsa had no way to defend herself. "That's not what this is about!"

"Then what is it about Elsa? You think you're the only one who's lived behind doors this whole time? I may have gone outside once or twice on my own, but the doors have always been kept shut. Why is that Elsa? Why do you ignore me? What did I ever to do make you hate me so much?!" Anna's chest heaved with exertion as she rounded on her sister and Elsa could see a single tear begin to trail down her cheek.

This was all her fault.

"Anna, this is about protecting you!" she exclaimed in a last attempt at trying to reason with her, but she knew Anna was beyond rational thought. Elsa might as well be trying to argue with a wall.

"Protecting me?" Anna repeated with a low, hollow laugh. Elsa flinched. "You think this is protecting me? Don't act like you know me Elsa, you haven't even  _tried_ to get to know me for thirteen years."

Elsa sucked in a breath and she wrapped her arms around herself, hiding the frost that began to manifest and coat the inside of her cloak.

She turned her back to Anna, squeezing her eyes shut and her heart rate became erratic. She could taste bile in the back of her throat and it was all she could do to not vomit.

_Not now! Please!_

Anna's disgruntled voice was distant. She felt as though she were suffocating. Her legs were moving before she could even think. She had to get back to her room, behind her door, where it was safe.

"—sa! Elsa!" Anna yelled, her voice dripping with frustration and before Elsa could react, her sister grabbed her by the arm and pulled her back. Anna promptly recoiled with a hiss, clutching her reddening, numb hand to her chest.

Elsa's eyes widened in horror as she witnessed this and she berated herself for being so stupid. For allowing herself to think she deserved to even look upon her sister, let alone talk to her.

To Anna's left, Fritjof had risen to his feet. His eyes lit with confusion as they shifted from Anna to Elsa. "Anna," he said, placing a hand on her shoulder to pull her back. "I think that's enough."

Anna shrugged him off, keeping her glare on Elsa. "Are you going to run back to your room Elsa?" she asked, her tongue sharp as a dagger.

Elsa didn't respond — couldn't respond. She wanted to move, but her knees were locked in place and her right hand was curled around her necklace so tightly that it was numb. She couldn't feel the sharp edges of the crystal dig into her skin so deep that she bled. Both sisters were so silent that they could hear Anna's ragged breath as she began to sag, weak from the sudden loss of adrenaline when her anger dissipated and the tiny droplets of blood that fell from Elsa's hand and splattered onto the wooden boards.

In that moment, Elsa could feel the chill of her powers begin to recede.

When Anna finally caught her breath, she took a step back, her lips trembled and her nose scrunched up a second before the hot tears began to fall. "You don't deserve to know me," she bit out with a choked sob.

"A-Anna—" Refusing to hear another word, Anna turned on her heels and fled until Elsa could hear the familiar sound of a door slam.

It was then that Elsa felt her world crumble and her heart shattered.


	4. The Feast of Ostara

**CHAPTER 3**

**"The Feast of Ostara"**

The anger still boiled deep within her, unbridled and irrational. It had been weeks. It could have been months for however long Anna mulled over her sister's words and the hot bite of her own.

Her parents hadn't noticed her resentment—or at least she hoped they hadn't, for they never queried. Perhaps they speculated it was the ill-progress of her training that fed her fury, for Fritjof had no trouble pointing out all her clumsy faults.

It hadn't been until today, earlier that morning, in which he suggested they take a break from sparring. Anna was too upset to protest, her sister's doubt lingering in the back of her mind.

Did Elsa think her incapable of holding her own?

"She doesn't even know me," Anna had muttered bitterly early that morning, after wiping the sand off her face from having been disarmed and thrown, head-first, into the ground. Fritjof sat next to her, his axe laid across his lap.

Anna scowled at the water lapping up against the shore of the fjord, curling her knees up to her chest with a pout.

"What makes you say that?" he asked and Anna could hear the genuine curiosity lilting in his tone.

"She never talks to me. She ignored me for almost all of my life and suddenly she thinks she can tell me what to do? If she won't even be my _sister_ , what makes her think she can govern my _life_?" she spat, eyes narrowed on her leather boots as she dug them into the sand.

She didn't expect him to respond. She had actually just been talking to herself, spitting her pent up rage before the silence consumed her. She hated silence.

It shouldn't have come as a surprise to her when he responded.

"I don't think she's trying to govern you—as you put it."

Anna frowned and leaned back, digging the heels of her palms into the sand behind her as she tried to get a good look at him. His bangs brushed over his eyes as he stared straight ahead, his lips pursed and his eyebrows creased. By the tense expression on his face, Anna could only guess that he was contemplating.

She almost snorted. Who _wouldn't_ contemplate over her sister's behaviors?

He moved his axe to rest in the sand and fixed her with a considerate gaze before elaborating, "I think she's afraid."

Anna grew silent at this. Her anger dissolved and the tension in her body deflated as she moved to sit on her knees.

"Afraid?" Anna furrowed her brows in confusion. She tried to recall all of her sister's mannerisms in the seldom moments they interacted. Tried to envision Elsa, afraid. That couldn't be right, Fritjof hardly knew Elsa—what was there to be afraid of?

 _And you know her any better than he does?_ A voice in the back of her mind mocked. Anna banished the thought. Of course she knew Elsa, at least to some degree. She was her sister. The sister who she used to have snowball fights against or build snowmen with. The sister who went out of her way to make Anna a wooden, fox-carved pendant as an apology—a gift. But, Elsa was also the sister who avoided her. The sister who preferred to spend her time in her room, weaving and sewing and carving, rather than mingle with others. She was aloof, withdrawn, and she only interacted with someone if she actually cared to—which was seldom, as Anna had come to notice—but afraid?

Fritjof must have noticed her confusion, for he broke her silence a few moments after, "Well, I'm not sure what it is she's afraid of, but it's the look in her eyes that gives her away." He took a sip of water from his flask and nudged it to her after he sated his thirst.

Anna declined with a shake of her head, too caught up in this new perception of her older sister. Yet, it also made her suspicious. How would Fritjof, a man who had spoken to Elsa only twice, understand her better than Anna did?

Anna shifted her body toward Fritjof so she could meet his eyes. "How do you know that?" she asked with a frown.

Fritjof rested his elbows on his knees and clicked his tongue. He was quiet for a few fractions of a second too long, patience was never a strength of hers.

"She's always looking for an escape, her eyes dart everywhere."

Anna released a frustrated groan.

"That doesn't make _any_ sense."

Fritjof merely shrugged and took another sip of water before gathering his things. Anna watched his every move. Her mind churning, trying to think up all the possibilities as to _why_. Why would Elsa always be looking for an escape? As far as Anna knew, their home was the safest place in Arendelle.

Then, she felt her body go still as she thought of all the times their father would only be allowed to see Elsa. She swallowed.

"Are you. . .are you suggesting that my father abuses her?!" Anna shot to her feet, her hands balled into fists at her sides. Fritjof's eyes widened and he held up a hand as if to hold her at bay. She felt like she was ready to pounce.

"What? No, no—Anna, your father is a good man and a great warrior. He's blessed by the gods. He took care of me as though I was his own son when I had no family left. He adores the both of you, I doubt he would even dare to lift a finger against your sister."

Anna let out a long sigh of relief, she felt her body deflate—the tension gone. Then, a wave of hot shame filled her cheeks.

"R-Right," she said, averting her gaze with a light, embarrassed chuckle. "Of course that wasn't what you were saying. I mean, my father is a good leader and he loves Elsa and I, silly. . .stupid me." Turning away from him, Anna picked up her shield and slung it over her shoulder. She stalled sheathing her sword, if only to save herself from the embarrassment of him seeing her red face—though it was probably already too late for that.

But even as she composed herself, Anna couldn't keep the lingering question to herself any longer.

"How do you know?" she asked, straightening herself when she found that she could look him in the eye again.

He stopped and raised a brow, "How do I know what?"

Anna resisted the urge to huff, but planted her hands on her hips instead. Her eyes hardened.

"You hardly know Elsa so how do you know what she looks like when she's afraid?"

Fritjof met her gaze, his expression unreadable as the confidence that overtook him earlier dissipated.

"How do you know what she looks like when she's happy?" he countered. Anna froze when he brushed passed her, his words ringing through her like an echo in an abandoned cave.

She didn't follow him, didn't pester him for a real answer. With Elsa in mind, the only thought that remained as her eyes settled upon the longhouse that she called home, was how _right_ he was.

Anna pondered over this for the next few days, trying to decipher the last time she had ever seen Elsa truly happy. No such event came to mind.

It was then that she took to studying her older sister instead, in hopes of answering the one question that cut through her like a knife: what was Elsa afraid of?

Anna did everything just to catch a glimpse of her sister. She hovered near her locked door, waited at the dining table before it was set for dinner and after it had been cleared, she even tried to peek into her sister's room through the window from the outside; but ever since their fight, Elsa refused to be seen.

Anna let out a defeated sigh and all but plopped herself upon the wooden bench by the fire within the Grand Hall. She reached up and untied the fox necklace from around her neck and examined it within her palm. It was the last gift Elsa had given her before she vanished into the confinements of her room altogether.

Anna had always come to the conclusion that Elsa hated her, but now it seemed that there was more to her sister's aloofness than she was aware of. There had to be an actual reason, right?

"None of this makes any sense," she grumbled, curling her hands around the wooden carving. "The one time I get to talk to my sister in _years_ and I blow it with my big, fat, _stupid_ mouth." She clenched her fingers around the necklace until her knuckles turned white as a wave of regret crashed through her. Then, with the necklace in hand, she stood.

She had to apologize to Elsa.

* * *

It had been weeks since their fight and Anna was still avoiding her. Elsa caught glimpses of her during training or around dinner when the sun would descend behind the mountains and everyone, except herself, would gather at the table and thank the gods for the food.

Apologies danced at the tip of her tongue each moment she laid eyes on her sister, but they would die in her throat before she could even utter a sound. What could she say? Would an apology even be enough to heal the wound she created?

It wasn't as though she wanted to take back her opinion on the matter of Anna becoming a shieldmaiden. Even though Elsa knew she had no real control over anything Anna did, she knew her words had struck a nerve in her younger sister. It didn't matter if she could regulate Anna's decisions and actions, what mattered was Elsa's opinion.

It was strange and terrifying all at once.

The hot bite of Anna's words clawed her. They sunk into her skin and tore at her flesh, re-opening old, self-inflicted wounds.

_You don't deserve to know me._

Elsa felt the ice crawl on her skin, rushing through her body, begging to release. Her throat became tight as she felt her heart drop when those cold words echoed in her mind again and again. It was like a mantra, haunting her in her nightmares, resounding with more insistence as each night dragged on.

 _No, she's right._ Elsa thought, her hold unknowingly tightened on the wolf necklace she had carved. The sharp edges of the wood dug into her palm, but she paid it no mind because it gave her a false sense of freedom.

The low howl of a wolf echoed through the mountains, sending a shiver up her spine. Elsa gravitated to the window, her eyes darting to the dark, pine woods nestled at the base of the North Mountain, hoping to catch a glimpse of the lone wolf bowing to the sky as it sang.

Instead, she was met with the sight of a group of children gifting their painted eggs to one another in tradition of Ostara, reminding her of her lost years with Anna and the myriad of eggs she had accidentally frozen to blocks of ice before she could leave them at the threshold of Anna's bedroom.

"You look somber as ever, dear."

Elsa perked at the familiar voice, lifting her eyes from the carving in her hand, she gave a tired smile.

"Thank you, Gerda," Elsa replied flatly, Gerda seemed to wince at her tone. She watched as the older woman bustled about her room as though it were a catastrophe left by a storm. Elsa couldn't remember the last time she had seen the woman, a servant of her own will for Elsa's family, step foot in her room since she was a child. Her parents had always made sure that no one was to enter their eldest daugher's room. Thus, her curiosity was piqued. "Gerda," Elsa began and moved away from the window, "what are you doing here?"

The woman halted in her hurried movements with dress after dress piled atop of her left arm. It would have appeared comical to Elsa if Gerda's expression wasn't so frantic. After a moment, the older woman gave a sigh and neatly placed the dresses she had managed to grab atop of Elsa's bed. She then held one of Elsa's hands between her own.

"Why, it's the Festival of Ostara. Your father had asked me to ready you for tonight's festivities," Gerda said with a tiny smile.

Elsa felt her stomach turn and she pulled her hand back to her sides. "Festivities? I don't understand. My parents always insisted that the festivities take place outside and only during the day. I've always stayed inside!" she protested, but Gerda had turned her attention back to Elsa's bed and began to spread out each dress, eliminating colors that were not fitting for a spring festival.

"Please don't pester poor old Gerda," she started, exasperated. "I am merely a loyal servant to your parents and I am lucky the gods have blessed me so. I am old and I am weary, but your father has insisted that you join the feast tonight at his side. I am just following his orders." Gerda gave Elsa a sharp look that dared her to try and turn her away as she picked up dress after dress and pressed them against Elsa's willowy figure with a purse of her lips.

As the older woman continued to fuss over the dresses, Elsa could only mull over what she had just been told. It was not beyond her knowledge that today was the Ostara Festival. She had watched the sacrifice to the goddess of spring, Eostre, from her window, but what unsettled her is that her father never warned her that she would have to participate in the evening festivities. But for what purpose? All her life, Elsa had known that her father would never allow large parties into their sacred home because he was afraid that Elsa would lose control. Did he decide that he deemed her control over her powers to be secure? Or was he testing her?

"Ah there we are!" Gerda declared, snapping Elsa out of her reverie. "Here, put this on dear while I prepare to start on your hair."

When the older woman turned to ravage through Elsa's room for hair accessories, Elsa looked down at the silk dress that was all but thrown into her arms. She didn't recall ever seeing it before among her sea of blue outfits. It reflected the color of a thistle plant, a flower that she only had the luxury of making its acquaintance once before; its pale color burned into her memory along with its refreshing scent. As she undressed and pulled the dress over her head, she realized that it was quite simple. The collar wrapped around her collarbone only to dip into a 'v' shape where black leather ties crisscrossed just above her breasts. Intricate, silver-knotted designs curled up the sides, down the long sleeves of her arms, and paralleled around her chest and down the length of her dress.

Not long after she had finished adjusting herself did Gerda bound over to tie a silver sash around her waist.

"I know blue is your color dear, but you look just as stunning in purple," Gerda commented as her fingers worked to finish tying Elsa's dress. Elsa stiffened when the older woman's hand brushed against the ties of her ice-crystal necklace. "Oh, you don't have to be wearing that tonight dear. I have the most stunning necklace. Let me take this off for you—"

"No!" Elsa cried, jerking herself away from Gerda's gentle hold. She began to panic when she felt her necklace pulse against her skin, working against her magic as it threatened to surface. Elsa bit her bottom lip and took a deep breath.

 _Conceal it. Don't let her see it_.

She heard Gerda shift behind her, no doubt surprised and confused at Elsa's outburst. It was deathly silent. When the storm inside her mellowed, Elsa swallowed and opened her eyes.

"I'm sorry Gerda," she apologized, absently touching the crystal. "This necklace is special to me is all."

Gerda gave a huff and pulled out a stool for Elsa to sit, "Well if you're that opposed to removing it, there was no need to yell at a poor old woman like me."

A wave of guilt washed over Elsa when she sat on the stool, straightening her back so as to make the task easier for Gerda. Her lips twitched into a genuine, apologetic smile.

"My apologies Gerda, I didn't mean to react so harshly," she replied then fell silent as Gerda pulled the loose braids from her hair and began to brush through the tangles of her white-blonde locks.

"Such beautiful hair, I wish you didn't put it up so often dear. Perhaps we can do something different for tonight, hm?"

Elsa didn't reply, instead she kept herself still as a statue on the stool and curled her hands into her lap. Gerda worked on weaving a braided crown atop of her head and finished with two braids twisted into a side braid, drapping it over her left shoulder.

"There, now that's better."

Elsa rose from her seat and turned with a faint smile, "Thank you, Gerda."

"Oh don't mention it, my dear." Gerda smiled and looked as though she were about to take Elsa's hands in her own, but seemed to think better of it as she pulled her arms back at her sides. "You and your sister have both grown into beautiful young women. I couldn't be more proud. The gods have blessed your parents and may the gods bless your future."

At the older woman's words, Elsa felt herself still as she was reminded of the future that her father had laid out before her, despite her abnormalities. Oh, if only Gerda knew. Elsa had never felt blessed by the gods.

After a few more minutes of enduring Gerda's antics and once she had left, Elsa nearly collapsed onto her bed, dreading what was to come for the rest of the evening.

* * *

The Grand Hall was livelier than Anna could ever recall. The fire was lit in the center, crowded by heavily clothed men and women alike, warming the longhouse as it popped and crackled softly beneath the light-hearted, boisterous chatter. The men drank from their horns; some had women clinging to their side. Anna couldn't tell if their light complexions were tinged red either from the chilly winds outside or because they were blushing in response to the flattering (or vulgar) compliments the men would enlighten them with.

She stiffly stood off to the side on the left of the throne, close enough that the soft furs brushed against her hands which she kept at her sides. She watched as her mother moved about the room to mingle. Under different circumstances, she would join her, but instead she found the guilt of her quarrel with Elsa too great to enjoy herself.

Moving her eyes from the crowd of people gathered in the middle of the room, she scanned every corner for her sister.

"Looking for my handsome face?" Came a voice from beside her.

"Handsome? If I were looking for someone 'good looking' it wouldn't be _you_ ," she countered with a roll of her eyes, crossing her arms. She chanced another glance back at the crowd.

"Oh, how cruel. And here I was hoping to get you to accept my proposal," said Fritjof with an amused twitch of his lips.

Anna opened her mouth to retort, but stopped when Fritjof reached forward and captured her necklace between his fingers. The wooden fox looked as though it were leaping from his palm, as if to escape his grasp.

"Where did you get this?" he asked.

Anna swallowed, couldn't keep her eyes off the necklace when a rush of unwanted nostalgia crashed through her.

"Elsa," she started, her voice small. "Elsa made it for me when we were little."

"It's very well crafted," he commented, rolling the fox out of his palm and dangling it from the carefully tied thread. He watched it swing idly between them until Anna caught it, wrapped her fingers around it and returned it to the place around her neck.

She swallowed the lump in her throat, pushed back the wet burning behind her eyes and gave him a nod, not trusting her voice.

Fritjof took a swig from his horn, the smell of alcohol tainted his breath and washed over her. For once she found that she was not craving a drink, nor the company of a somewhat sober man.

She shifted away from him, pushed herself up against the furs of the throne, taking comfort in their soft brush along her skin. Fritjof took another swig and raised a brow at her.

"No partying tonight? You're not one to avoid getting to know people. What's eating at you, hm?"

Anna bit her lip and winced. She had been hoping that she was doing well with masking her emotions. Was she really an open book? She had to be more careful around him, Anna had forgotten how perceptive he was.

For the first time, Anna felt as though she was being stripped naked and asked to speak of every thought and secret she had ever harbored. Ridiculous. She wanted to sink into the furs and beg Odin to grant her privacy—if only for a moment.

"It's nothing," she said, avoiding his gaze and scanning the room once more.

Fritjof drank the last drop from his drinking horn and shifted on his feet so he could lean toward her more comfortably.

"If it's nothing," he paused and lowered his voice. The softness of his warm breath against her ear made a shiver race up her spine. "Then why do you look like you're waiting for something to happen?"

Before Anna could move away from him and tell him to back off, he was already stepping down from the dais and making his way back into the excited crowd.

Heart pounding, she rubbed her arms and attempted to calm herself. Anna prayed that her parents would join her soon to take their place—and she hoped that Elsa would accompany them.

A few more minutes passed when her mother joined her. Relief sank into her and she felt herself relax when her mother offered her a warm smile and placed her hands on Anna's shoulders from behind.

"Take a _breath_ Anna, this is unlike you. It's a beautiful night. The gods are among us and spring is here with considerable warmth. The Festival of Ostara hasn't been this lively in years," she commented, her warm hands giving Anna a reassuring squeeze. "Where's the little girl I know and love? Who vibrates with excitement at parties and prances around the Grand Hall, hm?"

Her mother had a point, though Anna had hoped her lack of enthusiasm would fly passed her mother's detection. Why, for once, couldn't she be more like Elsa? No one could ever understand what went through her sister's head, then why couldn't Anna accomplish the same?

 _Because you don't want to be as closed off to the world as she is_ , warned a voice in the back of her head. _You want to experience the wonders you have yet to see and the people you have yet to meet._

Anna couldn't deny the truth of those words. So, she closed her eyes and took a deep breath.

Letting the darkness surround her, she took in the sounds of excited chatter and laughter, the rhythms of the lur, and the undermining scent of ale.

"That's it," her mother murmured behind her, soothing Anna with her gentle tone. The light, familiar scent of white dryads, a flower her mother was often found picking at the base of the mountains, breezed over her in gentle waves; a smell that Anna came to adore whenever her mother was near.

When she opened her eyes she was relieved to find her father walking toward them, ready to join them by the throne. It wasn't until her gaze fell on Elsa, who was a few steps behind their father with her head held high and her eyes glued to the back of Agdar's head, that Anna felt her heart begin to beat in her chest at a rapid pace once again. The moment of relaxation from earlier that Idun coaxed out of her disappeared as quickly as it had come.

Coming up just inches before them, Agdar placed a small kiss on Idun's lips with a light smile that was returned by his wife, and turned to Anna. He looked down at her with such a bright and joyful twinkle in his blue eyes they dulled the sight of the extravagant brown fur of his cloak that had been so carefully placed around his shoulders. It was so thick that he reminded Anna of a bear.

At his gaze, Anna found that she couldn't hold back the smile that curled on her lips. The tension she felt at the sight of Elsa lessened when he brushed her left cheek with a thumb.

"You look beautiful, Anna. Just like the radiant little girl I've always known," he complimented sincerely, making Anna blush and shy away at his words.

Tucking an imaginary stray hair behind her ear, Anna bit her bottom lip and clasped her hands behind her back, "Wait me?" Anna paused, regarding him with wide eyes. When his affectionate smile didn't abate, she chuckled nervously. "O-Oh of course, silly me. Thank you Papa. . ."

Moving away from her, Agdar flashed one last smile and stood on the opposite side of his wife.

When Anna faced the Grand Hall again, she froze when her eyes met Elsa's. Time stopped between them and Anna could hear her blood pumping through her ears as she swallowed. Hard.

* * *

After her father made a short speech and commenced the Feast of Ostara to begin, Elsa noticed the slight nod of his head toward her mother, who seemed to understand, and strategically whisked Anna away and into the Grand Hall until they vanished into the large crowd. She couldn't help but feel a tinge of guilt at the desperate look Anna shot at her over her shoulder. A look that was bright with longing and regret.

Elsa bit back a sigh and turned her head, trying to banish any thoughts of her sister along with the hurtful words that had been echoing, keeping the nightmares alive in her dreams, after their fight a few days ago.

It had been a mistake to allow herself to spend even a few minutes in Anna's presence. If she had stayed a few moments longer, her powers would have manifested; gods knew what that might have done to Anna. It was too dangerous. Always too dangerous. Even now, standing in front of hundreds of people, it was too dangerous.

Elsa kept her hands close, half-hidden beneath the long sleeves of her dress, and wrung them. Her eyes darted among the room, observing a group of men laughing and trying to see who could drink a whole mug of mead the fastest. Then landing on a small group of men and women alike who were dancing to an upbeat and trying tune. While Elsa recognized the music, she couldn't fathom the amount of steps one must take as she had never learned the dance herself. Finally, she spied Anna by the food, picking at small portions; Elsa was surprised to find that her sister didn't seem to be eating at all as it was common to find her stuffing her face almost every night. For Anna, a feast was no exception.

When Anna froze, as if sensing Elsa's eyes, and turned to look in her direction, Elsa felt her heart skip a beat and turned the other way. The crystal began to pulse. Elsa closed her eyes and took a few, deep breaths. Her fingers twitched as frost coated the insides of her sleeves, unbeknownst to everyone else around her.

"You look stunning tonight, Elsa," Agdar remarked, shifting beside her. Elsa tensed, having forgotten that she had company.

"Thank you Papa," she replied. Moving her gaze to her father's, the curiosity and dread that she had long buried before the festivities began, surfaced again. Her hands trembled and she bit her bottom lip. There was more to this than what her father was telling her. Her mind drifted back to their conversation a few days before—the same day she fought with Anna and the same day she _should_ have stayed in her room, hidden away, never to be seen—where they spoke of an alliance. An arranged marriage. Elsa found it hard to swallow, hard to breathe as her chest constricted as though a pack of wolves were pinning her down; their paws heavy and scratching against her ribs.

The fire in the center of the Grand Hall flickered to embers when a breeze of ice-cold wind blew past it, then ignited again. It was so brief that no one had noticed, but not quick enough to escape Elsa's eyes.

No. It was happening again. She had to stay under control.

Steeling herself, Elsa gripped the blue crystal she had half-tucked beneath the bust of her dress and exhaled as its warmth transitioned into her palm before it began to crust over with ice, harnessing her power.

As if sensing her discomfort, Agdar kept a safe distance from her, but not far enough that it would be noticeable to strangers. He cleared his throat, snagging her attention as she turned to him, her fingers still wrapped around her crystal necklace. Agdar offered her a small, reassuring smile to which Elsa attempted to return, but she only managed to make it last for a few seconds.

Her father sighed, "Elsa—"

"Papa, may I ask you something?" she blurted, cutting him off. He looked down at her with raised brows. "Has Anna told you about her. . .decision."

Her father was silent for a few moments longer, watching her, contemplating. Elsa shifted on her feet. Finding that she couldn't hold his gaze, she averted her attention back to the crowd gathered in the Grand Hall.

"Yes," he sighed, closing his eyes. "Anna has informed me."

Elsa snapped her head back to Agdar.

"That she wanted to become a shieldmaiden and fight in the shield wall. That she wanted to fight by your side?" she pressed, making sure that they were on the same topic. This caused her mind to drift back to the relentless mantra that resounded in her head for the past few days. Did Anna hate her now? Did she ever wish that Elsa never existed, that she was an only child and the heir? Elsa did. She wanted to disappear, perhaps to the deepest depths of Johtenheim where she belonged, with the frost giants. She doubted Anna would blink at her absence. After all, she would be able to lead a better life. An adventurous one, with the freedom she deserved.

Elsa never deserved a sister like Anna.

"I told her no," came her father's next response, and the lingering mantra vanished—his words replacing the dark thoughts that gutted her. "Knowing your sister, I'm sure she's chosen to ignore my concerns. I may be the Jarl, but I'm her father first. The gods blessed her with a free spirit and I'm doubtful that I can even stop her." Agdar fixed Elsa with a serious expression, his jaw tight and his eyebrows knit to a deep crease on his forehead, casting a light shadow over his eyes. "Have you spoken to her on this matter?"

Elsa felt her heart stop. His tone reminding her of all the times he'd raised his voice and lectured her on the potential dangers of her powers. How she shouldn't be around Anna until she could learn to control them. How disappointed and impatient he would become if she released the slightest speckle of frost by accident.

He'd always say that she was born with the power over ice and snow.

Elsa believed it was a curse.

She felt her eyes well up, hot and wet, when Anna crossed her mind once more. Her sister was nowhere in sight and Elsa wondered if Anna would want anything to do with her ever again. She could hardly bear the thought. A life without her sister wasn't a life at all. But if she was holding her sister back, if she _was_ making her as miserable as herself, then it would be for the best.

She swallowed past the hard lump in her throat and pushed back her tears.

"No," Elsa lied. "I just overheard her talking about it with Fritjof."

A single snowflake fell onto her enclosed hand.

She was a disappointment.

Elsa closed her eyes and took another deep breath, praying that the night would be over soon despite how it had only just begun.

"I know you're wondering why I wanted you by my side tonight, and why I held the feast in the Grand Hall rather than outside," Agdar said, changing the subject.

She could feel his gaze burn through her and she wondered if he knew how much she was struggling; how hard it was for her to stay under control.

But she was his first daughter, his heir, his golden child; she _had_ to be in control at all times.

Knowing this, Elsa forced herself to calm and opened her eyes. She dropped both of her hands at her sides and gave a tilt of her chin, turning her head to regard her father.

Elsa raised her brows. "I am," she responded and Agdar searched the crowd, sweeping the room with his eyes and piquing Elsa's curiosity. It was when he frowned and turned his attention back to her that made her suspect that her earlier suspicions may have been true.

"I wanted to introduce you to a potential ally, but he seems to be missing. I'll introduce you to him later."

"Introduce me?" she asked with a frown.

Agdar's eyes softened when he looked down at her. "You'll see. He's an important man. Very persuasive and he's been to the west more often than I."

The western world. Of course, she should have known. Everything now was about the west; its treasures, its kingdoms, the people, the battles.

She was about to inquire her father to elaborate when a booming voice echoed like the thunder of Thor's hammer, causing heads to turn and voices to die away in favor of the scene that was unfolding in the middle of the crowd.

"Did you not hear the woman? She told you to back off with your puny, limp prick!"

Elsa raised herself on the tips of her toes and squinted her eyes, trying to see what was happening. It wasn't until when a large man stepped out of her line of sight that she managed to get a clear view of the scene.

A young, shoulder-broad man had an older man by the collar of his tunic, his knuckles straining white from the vice grip he had on him. Their faces were so close they were almost touching and the fury of the younger man was radiated by the thick veins that coiled down his neck.

"Apologize!" he spat and shoved the older man toward the brunette woman who fixed the furious man with a frown.

"I was handling him myself, thank you. I didn't need your _heroic_ help," she growled and turned away, disappearing into the crowd near the back of the Grand Hall.

Taking advantage of his attacker's distraction, the older man scurried away, almost tripping over his own feet and spilling his ale.

"Ah," said Agdar, a smile decorating his face. "There's Gunnvarr."

Elsa felt a shiver of trepidation race up her spine when her father called to the man and waved him over. After the violent display, she became wary of the man. He was younger than she'd expected. Despite his broad shoulders, he wasn't a buff man. A small, dark beard that was a little more than a fuzz, lined his sharp, angled face, and his brown eyes were dark and intense. Elsa fought back a tremor. This man was a born leader, and he couldn't be much older than her.

"Ah Agdar, a wonderful feast you have thrown! It's worthy of the gods. May Ostara bless you with a rich spring!" Gunnvarr strutted over with a toothy grin.

"I'm most pleased to see that you made it," her father returned a friendly, relaxed smile, "and that you're enjoying the food."

Gunnvarr splayed a hand over his belly and chuckled. Elsa crinkled her nose at the nauseating stench of mead on his breath.

"Feasts are my specialty, other than fighting under the glory of the gods that is."

Elsa resisted the urge to roll her eyes. It shouldn't surprise her that this man was a typical brute. Despite having been hidden away in her room for most of her life, there were times Elsa had to interact—much to her chagrin—with some of her father's warriors. She never had to speak more than two words of greetings, but being the eldest daughter of an Jarl, she tended to draw curious eyes during the few events her parents expected her to attend.

From her impromptu small talks with a few of the men, Elsa resigned to the observation that she will never understand the need for men to fight and impress. The level of testosterone that always clashed around her like two head-ramming bulls was enough for her to come to the conclusion that men were not worth her time—especially if all they managed to do was eye her like a piece of raw meat laid before a pack of starving wolves.

 _Picking fights and eyeing meat, he's already scratched two traits off the unwanted brute list,_ Elsa mused with an inaudible huff, flaring her nostrils.

"Jarl Gunnvarr I'd like you to meet my daughter, Elsa."

She perked up at her name and forced a tiny, pleasant smile on her face when she turned to face Gunnvarr.

"It's a pleasure to make your acquaintance on this lovely night among the gods," she responded with feigned confidence. Despite the pounding of her heart in her chest and the wringing of her hands, she forced herself to fold them in front of her skirts and tilted her chin.

"Well, I _do_ have a tendency to make a pleasant impression on women," he laughed, failing to read past Elsa's overly sweetened voice; or perhaps he was so self-absorbed that he just didn't care.

He moved to stand between Elsa and her father, nearly towering over her when he reached passed her to grab a horn filled with mead.

Elsa bit her lip and put distance between them in her discomfort. Her stomach began to flip and her vision momentarily blurred. Would it be too early to retire to her room?

Her eyes drifted back over to the crowd until her shoulders slumped and she released a low, dejected sigh. Still no Anna. Her sister would have loved to meet new people. She would have stumbled over her words and gotten a little tongue-tied, but that's what was wonderful about her. Anna had that special gift; a gift that made others feel at ease, even Elsa who was always wound up and stiff like a bow-string.

Even if Anna hated her for the rest of her life, Elsa would be okay with that. As long as Anna was safe and happy.

A loud, boisterous laugh snapped Elsa out of her reverie to find that Gunnvarr was chuckling beside her, laughing at his own jokes. Did he ever stop talking about himself?

 _Gods, I can barely stand him talking for a few minutes,_ please _don't make me marry him_ , Elsa thought as she attempted a small laugh of her own.

Gunnvarr took another gulp of the mead from his horn and looked down at her. The way his eyes flashed unsettled her when he his countenance switched to a more serious composure.

"Of all the times I've traveled here with my father, I had never been able to catch a glimpse of you. Agdar's mysterious eldest daughter," he paused with a smirk. "But here you are, showing the world your pretty face on a night of the gods. I suppose I must be blessed." He winked.

Elsa frowned, feeling a hot wave of fury and embarassment heat up her face. She opened her mouth to retaliate in the most polite way she could muster—as she couldn't very well upset a potential ally—when Gunnvarr's eyes widened in awe as he leaned down toward her, reaching out with an open hand.

Her sapphire necklace was glowing, countering her powers. It was only then that Elsa noticed the crust of frost at her finger-tips.

"Is that a troll crystal?" he asked with raised eyebrows, now hovering a finger over the crystal nestled just beneath the hemmed collar of her dress.

Elsa felt her mouth go dry. Her heart raced as the chill of her powers accumulated. She took a calculated step back, willing to not draw attention to herself.

If Anna were here, Elsa would be nothing but a background decoration. But her sister wasn't, and it made the idea of her escape that much harder.

Her chest constricted and she turned her head away to escape Gunnvarr's hard gaze only to make eye-contact with a curious Fritjof in the oblivious crowd.

When she broke contact with him a fraction of a second later, she cursed herself for feeling like a cornered animal.

Why was there _always_ someone staring at her?

Her father cleared his throat from behind Gunnvarr, and Elsa felt the tension leave her body the second the other Jarl turned his head.

"I was just about to inform Elsa of the situation with our settlements in the west," Agdar said, shooting her a small smile.

The chill of her power receded, grateful that the conversation was no longer focused on her.

"Ah, yes. The Islanders don't want us on their rich land. Claiming their God and our gods can't coexist. If that were so, Odin wouldn't have sent us a sign to settle there. And Thor wouldn't have allowed us to cross the sea to the Isles. . ."

Elsa tuned Gunnvarr out, offering him feigned smiles of acknowledgement whenever he glanced at her, but she lost interest in the conversation between the two Jarls. Not because it didn't concern her—as her father's heir it certainly did—but because she was already aware of the situation in the Southern Isles.

Right now, to Elsa, Anna's safety was more important. She wasn't about to let her little sister run off with a sword and shield into battle, Elsa didn't care how skilled she was.

She just hoped her father never mentioned the settlements they had in the west to her sister, it would only feed Anna's determination.

When Agdar and Gunnvarr shared a laugh and began to negotiate an alliance, Elsa resigned to her fate and spared a glance into the hall in search of her sister. To no avail, Anna was nowhere to be seen from where she was standing.

* * *

Anna sat at an empty table in a far-off corner with a small plate in hand containing food she hardly bothered to touch. The only instances she moved to take a bite was when she thought Elsa was watching. It was stupid, really. Why would her older sister, someone who has made it a point to ignore her for years, be interested in what she was doing? Ridiculous.

Yet, she was still hopeful.

After a few half-hearted nibbles, the chicken cold and dry in her mouth, she pushed the plate away from her and planted her elbow on the table, cradling her chin in her palm with a grumble. Her eyes scanned the room as she rested her freehand on the wooden-carved table and restlessly tapped a finger.

She had to find a way to talk to Elsa. Alone. It didn't matter if her sister wanted to talk or not, she wouldn't— _couldn't_ —end the night without a single word to Elsa.

"Wow, I've never seen someone so unhappy at a feast. Drunk men trying to down every mug of mead he can get while he counts how many women he can grope. And spontaneous fights for the sake of testing his brawn during a night dedicated to the gods I would expect, but someone must have _really_ shoved a horn up high where it doesn't belong because you look _pissed_."

Anna dropped her arm and lifted her head after the short, dumbfounded moment that made her realize that the woman was talking to her. Taking in the woman's attire, she was donned in a dark brown dress with a white-furred hood. Half of her hair was left down, spread along her shoulders where a braid was wrapped around either side of her head above her ears only to meet in the back and neatly tied into the loose tresses of her chestnut hair. The style of the braid reminded Anna of a circlet and she squinted her eyes to get a closer look, curious if there happened to be jewelry in the woman's braid.

Elsa loved adding jewelry to her hair, she always said it accentuated the style and gave it a personality. Whatever that meant, Anna was never too keen on styling her own hair, but Elsa had always been the more creative of the two.

The thought reminded Anna that she was supposed to be grumpy and her eyes shifted back to the hall. She caught a glimpse of her sister through a small opening in the crowd as she stood next to their father, speaking with a man who Anna had a nagging feeling she's seen before.

A loud cough erupted Anna from her thoughts. She snapped her head back to the woman, who had taken a seat across from her, and found that she was staring into the darkest, maple-brown eyes she had ever seen. When the woman cocked an eyebrow, Anna pursed her lips and clenched a fist.

"Can I help you?" Anna nearly snapped through half-gritted teeth, trying to hide the annoyance in her tone, but found that it was no use. The woman already suspected that her patience was thin.

The woman just smirked.

"No, not really. Your brooding just had this _pull_ , it was like a calling from the gods. We must be _destined_ ," she drawled, her eyes flashing with amusement as she leaned her elbow on the table. When Anna frowned and crossed her arms, the woman just chuckled at the annoyed display. "Relax, I'm _joking_. So, what's with the face?"

Anna remained silent, not because she wasn't in the mood to talk, but rather she would prefer to keep her personal issues to herself. It wouldn't benefit her if she ranted to a complete stranger.

Her eyes shifted back to where her sister was standing and her mind swirled with a myriad of raging thoughts. Could Elsa not even stand to look at her? Why wouldn't she just allow her to apologize? Would Elsa even bother with a stranger?

 _Probably not,_ Anna mused, her frown deepening. _She's too busy shutting me out, why would she ever genuinely bother with strange people?_

Regardless, for reasons even unknown to her, Anna opened her mouth.

"My sister is ignoring me," she grumbled.

Anna watched the woman's gaze travel through the crowd and toward the throne where Elsa and her father resided and swallowed past a lump in her throat.

"Is that your sister? The one beside Jarl Agdar, looking like she has an axe up her—"

"The blonde one, yes that's her," Anna cut her off with a frown, dropping herself further in her seat when a slight wave of fury fell over her. "She doesn't have an axe up. . .well, anywhere. She's just not really. . .talkative is all."

" _Yeah_ , I can see that," the other woman commented with a raised brow, turning to face Anna as she popped a grape into her mouth. When she swallowed, she fixed Anna with a smile. "Cecilia."

"Huh?"

"My name. It's Cecilia," she repeated, reaching out with an open palm. Anna sat up straighter and regarded her, glancing from Cecilia's hand and to her face, only to find the woman's expression to be sincerely friendly.

Well, that took a quick turn.

"Oh," she said and deflated, the tension in her shoulders leaving an ache once she relaxed and took Cecilia's hand. "I'm Anna."

Cecilia squeezed her hand and shot her a smirk. "I know who you are."

"R-Right. . ." Anna resisted the urge to smack herself. Of course this woman would know who she was, her father was Jarl Agdar.

Cecilia seemed to sense her momentary discomfort, and once their hands separated, she popped another grape in her mouth and gave her a toothy smile, "Don't worry, my brother's the same way. He does what he wants, talks to who he wants, and if he's angry you'll know. Speaking of him. . ." she trailed off and twisted in her seat, nearly knocking herself off balance if it weren't for her quick reflexes when she grasped the table the moment she began to topple. "I haven't seen my brother since we arrived. He's probably gone to find some mead and a worthy opponent—as usual." Cecilia rolled her eyes.

"Your brother?" Anna asked, raising her brows. She began searching the crowd for an unfamiliar man. Which, after a few moments, she realized was useless because she only left her house long enough to train with Fritjof. The thought made her frown, she wished she could meet more people.

"Yes. Jarl Agdar invited us shortly after our father. . .left," Anna didn't miss the way Cecilia's jaw tightened, "and my brother took the throne as the new Jarl. He insisted that we come for political purposes, but I think he just wanted free food and mead," Cecilia commented with a roll her eyes.

Anna found herself chuckling at this. "I don't think the gods would blame him, feasts _are_ their specialty. Who doesn't want free food?"

Cecilia's eyes lit up. "Not my brother! At least not unless you propose a sparring session instead, I think he would rather take up a shield and sword than shove juicy meat down his throat, the show off."

"That sounds like most men!"

"Oh trust me," Cecilia sighed as she crossed her arms and leaned back in her chair. She cast her gaze to the throne where Anna noticed a young man standing between her sister and her father. "He only seems like 'most men.'"

Anna frowned and opened and closed her mouth, curious on what the other woman meant, but thought better of it.

It was better to leave some personal things left unsaid.

"I need to apologize to Elsa," she sighed instead.

"Sisters' quarrel?" Cecilia asked, returning her gaze to Anna.

"You can say that. . ."

When silence passed between them, Anna mentally cringed at the poisonous words she shot at Elsa. To say that guilt clawed at her insides was an understatement. The devastation she witnessed that passed over her sister's face haunted her.

It was wrong.

She'd broken a promise she'd made to herself long ago. She was supposed to smile for Elsa, try to make _Elsa_ smile—because being a witness to her sister's happiness was seldom. Anna couldn't remember the last time she'd seen a real smile grace Elsa's beautiful face; one that reached her eyes.

"Anna?" Cecilia called to her, but the woman's voice sounded far off as Anna's senses focused on nothing _but_ Elsa.

Anna felt tears prick at the corners of her eyes when she briefly made eye-contact for the first time that night with her sister across the hall.

 _I_ have _to make this right_.

The wooden chair creaked in protest as she shot up from her seat and planted her palms on the table.

"I-I'm sorry I have to go. . .e-excuse me—"

She brushed passed Cecilia and pushed her way through the crowd, determined to plant herself in front of Elsa and beg for forgiveness. Okay, perhaps not forgiveness. Did what she said even deserve forgiveness? She needed Elsa to hear how sorry she was. That what she said was wrong and how Elsa deserved to know everything about her little sister, just as much. . .

Anna paused mid-step. A single tear trailed down her cheek when she noticed she was half-way to the throne.

. . .Just as much as _she_ deserved to know _Elsa_.

The confidence she had moments before was swept away with the wind when a large man burst open the doors of the long house and strode toward Jarl Agdar.

As they exchanged hushed words, the fire in the center of the hall flickered, getting smaller as a deep frown marred her father's face. He squared his shoulders and beckoned for Idun to stand beside him.

"I'm afraid I must end the festivities and set sail to the Isles," Jarl Agdar announced as a hush fell over the crowd and all eyes turned to him. "I'll need my strongest and most loyal warriors."

The murmring grew louder as men in the crowd put down their mugs and hastily reached for their axes, swords, and shields.

The young man that had been talking to Elsa and her father stepped down from the dais and pushed past her, nearly knocking her over as he strode to Cecilia who pursed her lips and nodded to him while fastening a shield at her back.

 _She's a shieldmaiden?_ The thought was fleeting, leaving her mind the second she saw her parents reaching for their swords and shields.

Heart pounding, Anna raced up to them.

At the corner of her eye, she spotted Elsa hovering nearby, her sister's eyes darting to the view of the fjord behind the open doors.

"Do you have to go?"

Anna turned at the sound of Elsa's soft voice but found that she couldn't look at the way her sister seemed to curl into herself, as if the news of their parents' departure was too much to bear.

Perhaps it was.

Yet, Elsa kept her distance.

"You'll be fine, Elsa." Their father responded with a warm, yet sad twinkle in his eye. Then he turned and murmured something to Fritjof that Anna couldn't catch.

The sisters watched their parents depart on the longboats under a crescent moon.

* * *

Anna stood on the sand, watching as the calm waters lapped up against the rocky surface of the village's fjord. One week. It had been one week since their parents sailed west. She could only wonder why as it was not for a raid, but she had noticed the way her father's eyebrows creased and the way her mother's smile was nonexistent and she stifled a small sob when she thought back to their departure.

" _Two weeks, I promise. This shouldn't take long."_

_Anna catapulted against him, embracing her father in a tight hug. The warmth of his cloak enveloped her face as she took in his familiar scent._

" _Okay. I'll see you in two weeks," she murmured before pulling away._

Anna curled her hands together, as if to warm them, and held them against her heart. Her eyes never left the horizon, watching as the sky darkened when the sun fell only to make way for the moon to rise. She prayed to the gods for their safe return.

Two weeks later a ship docked at the fjord and two weary men stepped foot onto the shore.

Jarl Agdar and his wife, Idun, were announced dead.

It was a full moon that night.


	5. The ghost, the jarl, and the goddess

**Chapter 4**

**"The ghost, the jarl, and the goddess"**

Frost bloomed in small spirals on the oak wood as she heard the faint pitter-patter of her sister's footsteps. Her fingers curled inward on the wood's surface, hastening the formation of icy patterns as they bled into the door until the wood was frozen.

Elsa jerked away, cradling her hands to her chest with wide eyes.

She trembled, stepping backwards, ice spreading beneath her feet.

Flakes of snow hovered above her, speckling the air like white dots-frozen, like how numb her heart had become.

Elsa backed into the bed and collapsed on her back, covering her eyes with a forearm. The sleeve of her dress soaking up her warm tears.

The grief came in waves with her choked sobs. When she thought she had cried herself dry, her chest tightened and she became short of breath as her world blurred once more.

They  _couldn't_  be gone. She still had a lot left to learn, her father hadn't finished with her lessons, and she still had no control over her powers-even with the ice crystal.

Her eyes fluttered open. Her arm dropped down to her chest as her fingers sought for the icey gem. It pulsed faintly in rhythm with her rapid heartbeat, but her powers were still out of control. In her grief, Elsa couldn't keep her powers in check-but the ice crystal was supposed to harness and help control her powers, right?

Elsa frowned. A lone tear trickled down the curve of her cheek. Then why wasn't it working now?

Lifting her arm, Elsa squinted at the blue gem, watching it pulse and flicker in the palm of her hand. Ice crusted over its jagged edges the longer she held on. She then closed her eyes and took a deep breath, singling out the feel of the crystal in her palm as her fingers curled over it, encasing it within her hand.

Her eyes fluttered open when she could no longer feel its energy. Elsa sat up in the bed and opened her hand. The blue crystal no longer pulsed and flickered, neither was it imprisoned by her ice.

She furrowed her brows and frowned, focusing only on the gem as it seemed to have died out, its energy no longer pulsing through her.

"What are you?" she whispered, as if the enchanted crystal could hear her. If it didn't stop her powers the moment they manifested out of control, then what was it really for?

A knock on the door broke Elsa out of her trance, and she hastily placed the crystal around her neck, covering it with the fabric of her dress.

"Y-Yes? Who is it?" she asked, stepping toward the door. She placed a hand on the wood when the man answered.

"It's Kai," he paused, and Elsa breathed a sigh of relief at his familiar voice, inwardly thankful that it wasn't Anna. "Your sister hasn't been given the unfortunate news yet. . . what would you like me to tell her?"

Elsa closed her eyes and swallowed a lump in her throat, mentally preparing herself for the heartbroken cries her sister will surely give upon hearing the dreadful news.

"T-Tell her. . ." she trailed off to take a shaky breath and compose herself, "tell her that they were taken by a storm at sea."

There was a long pause. All she could hear was her own shuddering breath.

"...As you wish."

* * *

The last of the sun had descended behind the mountains as the sky blended with the stars into the night. The villagers breathed low gasps at the bright aurora that followed the flaming boat along the water, and Anna wondered if that was a sign. Did they finally find their peace? Were they at the golden gates of Valhalla, where Odin would welcome them with open arms and a warrior's feast? She hoped so.

It had been days, weeks, maybe even months since she'd sent off the empty funeral boat, watching as it was set aflame by the firing of arrows. Alone.

A suffocating silence fell over Arendelle since the mysterious death of the Jarl and his wife. And even though it was a few weeks into Summer, Anna felt that it had gotten colder. Her breath manifested as she walked down the candle-lit hallways of the longhouse.

Elsa hadn't left her room since the devastating news.

The Grand Hall had been absent of visitors for weeks, and Anna hadn't had a desire to train. Fritjof had attempted to encourage her once or twice, but she barely had the energy to eat.

Her family was gone.

Her parents were never coming back, and her own sister wanted nothing to do with her.

It had been hours since she'd moved from her spot on the bench, staring at the fire in the middle of the Grand Hall. Her parents left in a longboat months ago. The announcement was so abrupt that they'd never gotten a chance to sacrifice to Thor for them . As a result, they became victims to the sea's relentless waves, buried at the bottom of the ocean without even have reached their destination.

Anna creased her brows, a frown marring her face. Where were they going? They'd never told her. She didn't think to ask what the emergency was. Did Elsa know?

Elsa. . .

Anna turned in her seat to glance down the dark hallway where she knew her sister's bedroom was. How was Elsa taking the news?

_Stupid question, probably not well._

She didn't know when, but in those few moments, she'd managed to drag herself to Elsa's room. Her eyes fixed on the wooden door as she strained to hear any sign of life from within. There was none.

Anna bit her lip and knocked.

No answer.

She sighed and closed her eyes, resting her open palm and forehead on the freezing wood.

"Elsa?" she called, her voice strained. She swallowed over a lump in her throat as tears began to finally blur her vision; the weight of what she'd endured finally settling in. "Please. . . I know you're in there. I haven't seen you for months. I know you're hurting. I-I am too."

When her words were met with a painful silence, Anna turned to lean her back onto the door. Her bottom lip trembled and she took in a shaky breath; a failed attempt to hold in her tears. Her chest felt heavy, as if she was trapped beneath a warrior's shield. She slid down to the ground, barely feeling the pain in her bottom when she unceremoniously met the hard wooden floor.

The silence was thick enough to choke her.

"I-I'm sorry," she hiccuped through her tears. Through her numbness, she could only feel the warm wetness on her cheeks. "For everything I said. I-I didn't mean it. Sometimes," she paused to take in a breath, only to squeeze her eyes shut through a painful hiccup. Never had she felt as lonely and vulnerable as she did now. "Sometimes I think you hate me, but that's silly right? Y-You're my sister, we're supposed to fight and annoy each other, but it's out of love."

Anna gave a dry laugh and wiped at her tears despite the fresh cascade flowing down her cheeks.

"I just. . . at times I think about how lonely I am without you, but then I realize that you're probably lonelier than me. Are you lonely, Elsa?" She turned her head so her ear was pressed up against the door, trying to listen through the thickening silence for any sign that her sister had heard. Just the tiny, familiar sound of her sister's voice would suffice.

For a moment, Anna was hopeful, but the longer she waited the more she hated the silence. That hope faded with each creak of the floorboards she heard instead.  
She sighed in defeat and closed her eyes.

"Now that they're gone. . . you're all I have, Elsa.  _Please_  come out. I-I don't want to be alone."

A few heartbeats later, after no response, the silence was broken when Anna curled onto the floor with small, choked sobs.

 

It had been a few months since their parents were lost at sea. A few months since the Grand Hall had been full. A few months since she had seen Elsa for longer than a minute. A long, agonizing couple of months since Anna hadn't felt so alone.

Now, as she stood on the fjord with the warm sand settling between her toes, she watched the summer sun illuminate the gentle waves of the ocean with a longing she hadn't stopped feeling since she was young. As she stepped forward, allowing the edge of the water to cool the bottoms of her feet, she thought about how easy it would be to jump into a ship and sail; to just escape the loneliness that threatened to suffocate her.

At least, if she was going to be lonely, it wouldn't feel as crippling if she were exploring.

In the corner of her eye, Anna caught sight of a docked longboat. Its sails catching the wind in a majestic flutter while its sides were decorated with warrior shields lined along the rails. She hadn't realized that she'd gravitated away from the water and toward the docks until she had reached out to run the tips of her fingers along the smooth edges of the ship. When a strong breeze swept along the fjord, Anna closed her eyes and savored the wind as she imagined sailing away, allowing the ocean to carry her to new sights.

To long awaited feelings; excitement and awe.

To feel the rush of adrenaline as she raced with her fellow warriors into a field. To hear the scraping and clashing of metal upon metal; the dead crack of metal on wood.

To fight for a freedom she had longed for since she was young.

Anna opened her eyes, staring into the emptiness of the rocking boat. Though the temptation of crawling in to set sail and never look back was strong, she knew she didn't know the first thing about sailing-and if she had asked any of the fishermen, it wouldn't be long before news got to her sister. Elsa had always shared the lack of enthusiasm their father had when it came to the idea of Anna learning to sail, much less learning to fight. It would come as no surprise if her sister started scolding her for even setting eyes on a longboat.

"Your father would be proud of you."

Anna drew her fingers away from the longboat and turned. Her lips were set in a tight line and her eyes felt heavy, as if she hadn't slept in days. She'd been too occupied with her swarming thoughts to notice Fritjof settling in behind her.

Her throat grew tight at the distant memory of her father. The way his voice would deepen when he chuckled, how his forehead would crinkle when he was in deep thought, how he handled spontaneous and dangerous situations with a calmness that Anna couldn't understand.

Anna shook her head.

"I'm nothing like him," she replied, turning back to gaze out at the horizon.

"Well," Fritjof shuffled onto the docks to stand next to her, "that doesn't mean he wouldn't be proud of the woman you've become." He glanced at her, and from the corner of her eye she noticed his shoulders deflate as he let out a soft breath.

"I know your father was a bit too overprotective, but he had a good reason. He was a great leader yes, but he loved you and Elsa more than anything. Sometimes. . ." he paused, as if wrestling with the words on his tongue, prompting Anna to stare at him. "Sometimes I think he didn't know how to separate leadership from fatherhood."

Anna bit her lip. She felt the heat of warm tears brim at her eyes. Her chest grew tight, as if there wasn't enough oxygen by the water; like she was drowning. She knew he was right. Despite how she felt that her father always kept her tied to the end of an invisible rope, she knew it was because he didn't know how else to keep her from straying too far. He was a leader before a father, it was only natural that he'd transfer leadership techniques over to his daughters, no matter how much she hated it.

". . .I suppose," she sighed. "Funny how I always thought Elsa was his golden child, but then I remember how much stricter he was with her."

Fritjof nodded, "He had very different ways of raising and handling you both. He was a very brave and proud man though. More compassionate than most leaders. When he took me in, he treated me like a son."

Anna turned to him, creasing her brows with a purse of her lips, "Took you in?"

Fritjof shifted next to her, as if he were uncomfortable. He clenched his hands into fists at his sides then uncurled them and lifted his chin to look at her.

"I admit," he started, squaring his shoulders. ". . .I admit that I thought of your father as the father I had never known. I was just a boy when he rose to the throne as jarl. I lost my mother to a raid he led before you and your sister were even a thought. At first, I resented him. I had nothing and I blamed him for failing to protect my mother, even though as a shieldmaiden, she volunteered to raid with him."

Anna stared at him when he paused to take a breath. His gaze distant as he stared out toward the fjord mountains, lit by the blazing summer sun. In that moment, she thought he looked like a boy poised as a warrior, adorning a wooden axe at his hip instead of sharp steel. She'd always thought Fritjof's relationship with her father to be odd; almost as if they were father and son by how familiar they addressed one another. How Fritjof was bold with his playful banter, teasing her father for his stern demeanor.

Until now, she'd just brushed it off.

Her heart ached for him when his eyes glazed over as he continued.

"I think he treated me as if I was his own because he felt guilty. He taught me the art of battle, like my mother had planned to. Invited me to private family dinners, scolded me when I was reckless or got into trouble-like all stupid boys do." A tiny smile curled on his lips at that and he shook his head. He turned to her.

Anna watched him carefully; studied his countenance. She was taken aback by the man that stood before her. For the first time, she noticed how red his eyes were; probably from endless nights of weeping. Just like she'd done-perhaps just like she imagined Elsa had done. This was a boy who had lost so much and gained so little. A boy who strove to be noticed and wanted. Perhaps he felt wanted once; maybe that's how her father made him feel when he took him in.

Anna swallowed, finding herself unable to hold his hollow gaze. Unable to stare into those bloodshot eyes, swirling with a pain she knew all too well. She turned back to the fjord and watched the gentle waves rise and fall, clutching a hand onto her left arm.

A cold breeze swept by, sending a shiver up her spine.

"I'm sorry," she finally whispered. The lump in her throat was too big. She was surprised she could even talk at all. "For your loss. My father loved you like his own."

Fritjof didn't say anything for a long while. He followed her gaze to the water as a cloud passed over, blocking the sun's rays. The fjord's waters swirled black beneath the rocking boats. A raven flew over them and toward the mountains; its dark feathers skimmed the cold water when it flew too low. Beating its wings harder, it flew higher until it was above the rustling trees at the base of the mountain. Anna watched until it was merely a lone, dark speck in the sky.

When it was gone, the sun peaked out from behind the clouds and she relaxed with its warmth upon her cheeks.

Fritjof then smiled.

"Well, I apologize for disturbing your peace, princess." He turned his back and winked at her over his shoulder with a teasing smile."Let me know when you're up to sparring again, I'll be ready to kick your ass anytime!"

Anna blinked and opened her mouth, but no retort came. She just stood on the docks with an unhinged jaw, her mind trying to catch up and decipher what had just transpired. Fritjof may be a smartass, but he was sentimental. How he could switch his demeanor so quickly was unsettling.

She shook her head with a sigh and absently pulled at one of her braids as she began to pace the docks until her legs ached. After deciding that no one was going to use the longboat for a quick sail, she climbed in and sat on a wooden bench, reveling in the feel of the ship rocking on the small waves.

She didn't retire until the sun had long set behind the North Mountain and the wolves began to sing a mournful song at the full moon.

In the coming weeks, the continuous silence inside the house drove Anna to insanity. Even taking residence outside of Elsa's door, rambling, did nothing to keep her head afloat a sea of grief. So, she took to the shore and wandered the village, hoping she could quell the loneliness that nipped at her ankles.

The villagers were kind and hardworking. Some even invited her to help tend to their farm animals; she was delighted to feed and pet some goats until one decided he'd had enough of her and rammed his horns into her rear, knocking her over the wooden gate.

After spending nearly an hour spitting out grass and dirt from when she ate the ground, Anna sat up and pulled a few twigs out of her hair, she paused when she noticed a group of men rushing in and out of the docks. When she pushed herself to her feet and moved closer, she heard Fritjof shouting orders for some men to grab thicker ropes while others carried shields and goods out of the boats and into the Grand Hall.

Anna sprinted, nearly knocking over a man carrying three boxes (he grunted at her when she stuttered a rushed apology), and approached Fritjof.

"What's going on?" she asked, assessing the situation as the men hurried their movements at Fritjof's next commands before he turned to her; a deep frown marred his face.

"Anna, you should head inside. Thor created a heavy lightning storm, and I imagine the fjord will not be a safe place."

Anna's eyes widened, her brows rising as she turned to look out past the docks. The dark clouds in the distance and the whirling of the winds picking up by the shore only confirmed Fritjof's concerns. A dangerous blue flash of lightning struck across the approaching thick, ominous clouds. At the distant crack of thunder, Anna squared her shoulders and turned back to Fritjof; her blue eyes hard and determined.

She will not run and hide while her people are risking their lives preparing for a rough storm.

"You're still reinforcing the ropes for the longboats, right? I can finish off tying the ships and help make sure nothing important is still inside."

Fritjof sighed and looked as if he were going to protest, but instead he nodded and gestured toward a group of men awaiting orders. "Very well, I'll have them start covering the ships with tarp so the heavy rain won't sink them."

Anna nodded and wasted no time in getting to work. She fetched the thick ropes that were piled by the docks and raced toward the remaining longboats that needed to be secured. Looping a rope around a post, she leaped into the first boat and began to tie it. Working in hurried movements, she cursed when the frayed, abrasive fibers cut her hands. When she finally managed to reinforce the roping, she dashed to the remaining two viking ships.

When she finished, Anna assessed her work with a content smile then turned to see the last of the goods being carried into the Grand Hall. She sighed with relief. The hammering of her heart, fed by the adrenaline, began to slow to a steady beat.

As the thunder clouds continued their assault, Anna made her way back into the Grand Hall to take shelter. Confident with her work on the ships, she brushed past the men and a commanding Fritjof to make her way to Elsa's room. Despite how she knew Elsa wouldn't come out, Anna liked to hope that her sister at least listened to her ramblings whenever she took residence by her room.

Elsa deserved to know the on-goings of their village.

Anna gave a melodic five knocks and paused, holding her breath in case Elsa responded.

There was none.

She sighed and rested her palm on the freezing wooden door.

"Elsa? It's me, Anna. W-Well. . . of course you know it's me. Silly right? Who else knocks like me?" she gave a light laugh that faded the longer the silence settled in. She swallowed thickly and squared her shoulders.

"I helped out today. Fritjof was shouting out orders, preparing for the thunderstorm that's heading our way. I didn't expect him to take charge, after all, it should have been me right? He would make a good leader. . . at least. . . better than I would be. But you know what? I think you would be even better. An amazing leader, it's what papa taught you to do right?" Anna froze at the mention of their father and bit her lip, inwardly scolding herself for mentioning him when her sister was obviously still grieving.

"S-Sorry. . ." she murmured, though she wasn't sure who she was apologizing to; herself or Elsa? The pain in the wake of their parents' deaths had not dulled as much as she thought it had. Hot tears pricked at the corners of her eyes. She bit her lower lip and blinked them away.

No, she had to be strong, if not for herself then for Elsa.

For a split moment, she thought she heard a muffled voice through the door that sounded close to "it's okay." But when Anna pressed her ear to the door, she could hear nothing but the howling wind as the storm approached their shores.

Anna slumped her shoulders and backed away.

She must have imagined it.

The distant howling grew and a rough breeze from the Grand Hall forced her to snap her attention back to the shouting men gathered there.

"The ships!"

Anna's eyes widened at Fritjof's urgent voice as the group of men sprinted to the fjord. She glanced back at Elsa's door.

"I-I'll be right back, Elsa!"

She sprinted out of the longhouse.

Heart thumping in her chest, she pushed her legs to move as fast as they could even as her bare feet slipped through the wet sand as she approached the fjord.

With wide eyes, she watched the rough waves relentlessly slammed against the docks, jarring the ships.

Anna froze, her wet body numb against the pounding rain when a bright flash of lightning raced across the dark sky.

Shouts fell on her deaf ears as a crack of thunder followed and shook the soaked ground beneath her feet.

Breath shallow, she came to. Wiping her wet bangs from her eyes, she frantically searched the crowd of men for Fritjof.

Squinting through the pouring rain, she was drawn to a group of men hovering by one of the ships, grunting and and shouting as they pulled on a rope, struggling to reel the boat away from the crashing waves.

Among them, she spotted Fritjof. His fingers dug into the railing of the ship, knuckles white. His feet planted on the edge of the wooden docks, toes slipping against the soaked surface as he fought against the relentless waves.

Another flash of lightning brightened the obsidian sky.

The bright light illuminated Fritjof's face in his struggle. His teeth clenched, nose wrinkled, brows scrunched so low his eyes were shadowed.

Anna shivered at the scene, couldn't force her legs to move.

This was a man who strove to help his people despite the odds. This was a man who would risk his life so his people wouldn't question him.

One of the men howled and tossed a rope.

Fritjof's hand dashed to grab it, fumbling with the soaked fibers before managing to grip it between his fingers and pull himself and the boat closer to the docks.

A crack of thunder jolted her and she pushed her legs to move, sprinting to the docks.

None of the men acknowledged her as she pushed her way through them. Her concerned shouts deaf to their ears, the roaring of the waves drowning out her voice as she pushed to the front, eyes wide.

"Fritjof!" she called again. When he didn't indicate that he'd heard her, Anna moved to step toward him, but the group of men pushed her aside, almost knocked her backward. "W-Woah!" she grasped onto a nearby post, steadying herself. No one paid her any mind, too focused on the situation at hand to listen to what she had to say.

Fritjof now had one foot in the boat. Anna held her breath, bracing herself to jump to his aid when he stretched his body taut to grasp the docking post and pull the rope over it to secure the longboat.

The ship jerked against the waves, but the ropes securely yanked it back to the docks with a heavy splash.

The men cheered as they grasped Fritjof by the arms and helped him back to the ground. His breath came in harsh gasps, hair mussed and drenched from the crashing waves, but a wide smile crossed his features as his people cheered for him and slapped him on the back.

He was every bit of a hero in that moment, yet Anna felt invisible; helpless.

When Fritjof's proud eyes met hers, she forced a smile.

She soon found herself alone on the docks, soaked to the bone, as the crowd of men escorted Fritjof back to the longhouse.

When she turned from the scene and stared down at the dark water, her eyes were drawn to a loose, severed rope trapped between the boards of the dock. Its clean cut edges whipping against the wind.

Anna bent down to her knees and yanked it free.

When she stared back at the ship Fritjof had re-secured, her eyes widened and her heart stopped at the recognition that it was one of the boats she'd tied.

It wasn't the wind and rough waves that loosened the knot, someone cut her ropes clean.

She closed her hand into a tight fist. With furrowed brows and pursed lips, she gave a frustrated grunt and threw the rope into the fjord, watching it drown under the dark depths of the water with small satisfaction.

A groan echoed across the fjord, sending shivers up Anna's spine. The frayed rope was forgotten as she spun on her heels. Her feet slipped on the wet wood. The rain pounded, as though it wanted to drown her.

Anna squinted, straining to see through the downpour. The fjord groaned again. It screamed through the storm, muffled by the howling wind. Lightning cracked across the sky. Thunder shook the ground.

Another blinding flash brought another viking ship to Anna's attention. It was tied to the next dock over, rocking and jerking against the winds, riding the vicious waves in place.

Anna's stomach dropped as she recognized it was another one of the ships she'd tied earlier. How could she have been so stupid to not think to reinforce the ropes? Was she so useless that she couldn't even tie a simple knot?

The rope stretched thin, ripping in the middle with each jolt and groan the ship gave.

"Fritjof!" Anna yelled, praying he could hear her over the unforgiving storm. "Another ship is getting loose!" Without checking to see if he'd heard her, Anna grabbed a spare rope and sprinted across the sand, leaping onto the ship once she was close enough.

With shaking hands, she worked as quickly as she could, knotting a loop into the fresh rope.

"Anna!"

She jerked upward at the desperate call of her name, nearly drowned out by thunder. Her wide eyes searched through another flash of lightning and she swore she saw her sister racing toward her, blonde hair wild.

"Elsa?" she croaked, throat dry and eyes furrowed.

The rope snapped. She jerked forward with a grunt, her face slamming into the hard wood of the bottom of the ship.

Her right cheek burned hot. She tasted the blood on her lips as it streamed down to her chin.

Anna clenched her teeth and pulled herself up.

The ship rocked violently.

She shivered, drenched cold to the bone.

It was only when she looked over the railing that she noticed how far out she was from the shore. The rope she had looped dangled off the edge, whipping against the wind, too far for her to secure the ship to the dock.

It was too late. The rope had already snapped before she could secure a new one.

Anna let loose a panicked cry of her sister's name as the storm carried her out to sea.

* * *

She'd known Anna would risk herself in a storm. She'd heard her sister ramble through the door the happenings of Arendelle from day to day since their parents died.

But now, as she raced barefoot across the sand, she choked back a sob at the realization that she might lose her little sister too.

Elsa halted before the crashing waves, her toes numb against the freezing water. Breathing heavily from exertion, she squeezed her eyes shut and lifted a hand to shield herself from the strong gusts.

When she opened them, the ship had been carried out farther on the water, crashing against the waves.

"No," she whispered, taking in a shaky breath.

The wind roared in her ears as the wind whipped her braid from her shoulder. Elsa gasped and reached up to catch the crystal, hanging loosely around her neck, from escaping the confines of her dress and catching the wind.

But Anna's cry caused her to ignore how the ice crystal was resting over her dress. She spun on her heels, eyes searching the shore for-the boats, anything-she could use.

"Fritjof!" she called, her voice cracking. The man turned to face her, his eyes growing wide at her appearance.

But there was no time for talk, just when he opened his mouth to greet her, Elsa cut him off.

"Anna's on the ship!"

Fritjof furrowed his brow, but looked out over the fjord. He cursed over the raging winds.

"What was she thinking?!" he gasped, then looked back to Elsa, his gaze apologetic, but Elsa would have none of it.

"We need to do something!" she cried out. Desperation sunk into her skin, she could hear blood pounding in her ears. Her throat tight.

Fritjof moved in next to her. She jerked away when he touched her elbow. Elsa wasn't sure if it was reassurance or support he was trying to provide, but she didn't have time for it- _Anna_ didn't have time.

"I managed to save another ship before that one got loose-I told Anna it was too dangerous and to head back inside. Now I see," he paused, swallowing as he stared out at the lone ship riding the mountain-like waves, rocking as if it would tip over at any moment. "Now I see that she didn't listen."

Fritjof then turned to her with a frown. His eyes dull with resignation. "I'm afraid there's nothing we can do. Anna's too far out and it's too dangerous to swim, much less take a boat. We can only pray that Thor will bring her back to us safely."

Elsa stared at him. Wide eyes unbelieving. She couldn't breathe, her hands shook at her sides.

Her blue necklace glowed against her chest, reigning in her powers. She could feel the frost at her fingertips.

Elsa looked away from him and out at the fjord, eyes locked on the viking ship that threatened to take Anna away from her.

"No," she bit out and stepped toward the water. "This is something only I can do."

She ignored Fritjof's cries as he tried to stop her from going to her sister.

Lightning flashed, illuminating the jagged edges of the ravaging waves. The ground shook beneath her feet, but no crack of thunder assaulted her ears.

Fritjof's lips moved as he raced toward her. He touched her shoulders in an attempt to steer her away, but she jolted away from his hands. He said something, perhaps pleading with her, but all she could hear was the crackling of ice blooming with each step she took.

Ankles-deep in the water, Elsa closed her eyes and extended her arms.

Taking a deep breath, she reached into her core and, for the first time, willingly channeled the ice. She shivered at the unfamiliar feeling of the magic racing through her veins, spiraling toward her fingertips.

The wind picked up, swirling around her in a flurry of snow. Her braid billowed behind her. Her blue dress flowed, riding the wind in elegant waves. Her necklace brightened, illuminating the sharp lines of her determined face as her eyes fluttered open.

Elsa parted her lips and released a cold breath. Ice spiraled from her fingertips, halting the waves as she took her first few steps onto the growing frozen path. The crystallization of the frozen path smoothed out beneath her feet, snowflakes blooming with her every step.

She didn't turn back. All that mattered was Anna, who held onto the rocking ship so she wouldn't fall victim to the mountainous waves.

Elsa sped up into a sprint, freezing the water as fast as her legs took her.

When she was close enough to the ship, she stretched her arms and spread her fingers, freezing the water underneath.

"Anna!" she called, panting.

Anna stood with her hands clutching the railing, staring at her older sister with eyes wide as plates.

"Woah," she breathed, bewildered as her breath clouded from the drop in temperature when Elsa leaped into the ship.

Elsa froze the rain around them. Raising her arms, she swirled it through the storm in an icy blast, crystallizing curved walls around them as she created a dome to shield them from the raging winds.

Anna sputtered behind her, turning in circles to inspect the icy dome that surrounded them in the middle of the fjord. The rain drummed against the surface of Elsa's creation. Snowflakes and spirals elegantly bloomed and bled into the ice, curving around them. The bright blue walls captured every shadow from the ravenous waves as they curled and crashed around the ice.

"Elsa. . .what? How did you. . .?  _When_  did you get ice magic?! No no wait," Anna held up her hands to cut off Elsa from answering (not that she was keen on explaining everything to her little sister right here and now in the middle of a storm rescue). "You've had ice magic this  _whole time_  and you  _never_  told me?! Elsa this is. . . this is  _amazing_ -!"

Anna's enthusiastic rambling became muffled to Elsa's ears as she wrung her hands and inspected the dome she'd manipulated the frozen rain to form.

Her hands trembled. Her world spun, Anna's form becoming a blur as she stared past her, unfocused eyes only seeing the creation she'd made and the consequences that were sure to come.

She'd revealed her powers to not only Anna, but the entire village.

She could hear her father scolding her now; breathing down her neck. Telling her why this shouldn't have happened. How she could have killed Anna by accident-perhaps even cause other casualties.

Elsa's breath hitched in her throat.

Her chest felt heavy. There was a weight on her shoulders that made her body ache.

"-lsa? Elsa?"

She blinked with a gasp, shaken out of her reverie when Anna called for her, trapping Elsa's arms in her grasp.

"Elsa? Are you okay? You look pale. Is it the snow? Are you cold? Wait, that doesn't make sense why would you be cold if you can turn things into ice and make it snow?" Anna pursed her lips and furrowed her brows, now seeming to talk to herself; answering her own questions.

Elsa swallowed. Her throat felt dry, as if she'd swallowed a mouthful of sand.

She shied away from Anna's touch and wrapped her trembling hands around her stomach. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath, trying to regain composure. She had to get Anna to safety.

"A-Anna," she croaked, turning her back to face the storm that raged outside her icey-dome.

Her sister was silent, waiting for what Elsa had to say. When she didn't continue, Anna carefully moved up next to her as if her older sister was a doe she didn't want to frighten.

"Elsa?" Anna called, her voice soft. She made to lift a hand as if to touch her, but hesitated and pulled it back to her side, taking to biting her lip and fidgeting in place instead.

"I-I can't. . ." Elsa whispered, taking in a shaky breath. Her legs felt weak. She leaned onto the railing of the ship for support.

"You can't what? Elsa?  _Please_  tell me what's wrong."

When Anna's curiosity changed to concern, Elsa glanced at her over her shoulder to find Anna holding her hands to her chest, as if to comfort herself, with wide eyes shining with tears.

Tears Elsa had caused.

Her throat tightened.

She instinctively reached up to curl her fingers around the blue crystal nestled around her neck, but froze when she touched the wet skin of her chest instead.

_No._

Elsa caught the wail before it could leave her throat at the idea that she'd lost the ice crystal to the sea.

"I-I can't come back with you," she bit out, finally answering Anna's query.

Anna started with a rigorous shake of her head.

"What do you mean? Of course you can come back! Arendelle is our  _home_!"

"No," Elsa whispered, turning away from her sister. "It's my prison."

With a wave of her hands, the dome dissipated around them into soft flakes of snow, melting into the calming waves of the fjord.

The worst of the storm had passed.

Channeling her power, Elsa brought forth an icy gust, setting the ship sailing toward the shore where Fritjof and his men waited on the sand with unhinged jaws.

Anna leaped over the railing, her feet burying in the sand as she greeted Fritjof with a wide smile, but the man stared past her.

Upon exiting the ship, Elsa shrunk back, aware of the crowd of eyes burning into her.

Elsa held up her hands as they crowded her, whispers echoing among them.

"-What was that?"

"-a sorceress?"

"-Who  _is_  she?"

"-a goddess is among us!"

She gasped for air, hyperventilating as she snapped her head with wide eyes at each comment.

She couldn't stay here.

When Anna moved to approach her, Elsa backed away and shook her head.

"N-No," she pleaded.

"Elsa, wait-" Anna held up a hand, as if it were a peace offering when she stepped closer.

Elsa bolted.

Tears blurred her vision as she raced toward the mountains, leaving a melting trail of ice in her wake, not daring to look back.


End file.
